


I'm on my way

by Signe_chan



Series: I'm on my way [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Road Trip, Slow Burn, life doesn't end at graduation, mentions of divorce, other minor pairings - Freeform, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-14 11:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10535232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: In the ten years since graduation, things have changed for Eric. After Jack was traded away Eric married, adopted a son, divorced. Now he's barely scraping by and the last thing he expects is his ex, Jack, and his ex's best friend Shitty, showing up on his doorstep to sweep him away on a road trip.After all, it's too late for second chances, isn't it?





	1. Eric

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is finished. I'm posting a chapter a week to give me a chance to edit as I go but I promise it is finished and will all be posted.

“It’s nothing personal,” Barbara said, smiling. “I’d have loved to keep you on. It’s just the economy, you know. Someone has to go and your timekeeping is poor. Of course, we appreciate the skill and dedication you’ve brought to the bakery.” 

“Of course,” Eric said, the words somehow making their way out past the shock. “Yes. Of course.” 

“I’m so glad we can end this amicably,” Barbara said. She took his hand. “We’ll give you a reference, of course, but you will need to be off property by closing and you don’t need to come back. We understand each other, right?” 

“Yes,” Eric said. He didn’t understand anything. 

“Good,” Barbara beamed. Eric stood uncertainly. She gave him one last smile and then turned her attention back to the piles of papers in front of her. As though they’d just had a nice chat about pastry consistency or how their kids were doing in school or something. As though she hadn’t just completely destroyed Eric’s life. 

He opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. Went to his locker. His mind was racing. She couldn’t do this… only she could. He’d been working fifty hour weeks in her stupid bakery for years, churning out pies and cookies and cakes that were so far below what he knew he could produce because she wouldn’t spring for the good ingredients and he did it with a smile because he had to and now…

The only things in his locker were his jacket and his bag. He took them and headed to the kitchen. Anne was working the second shift. She looked tired. Pale. He knew he should ask, he’d normally ask, but he couldn’t right now. 

The pastry crimper was his from home; the stupid bitch wouldn’t pay for one. He shoved it in his bag. His rolling pin too. And his set of nozzles for piping icing. There was probably more but he couldn’t think. 

“Eric,” Anne finally said, giving him a strange look. “You okay, sugar?” 

He laughed. What was he meant to say to that? Something cheerful, probably. Yes, Anne. I’ll be just fine. I’ll be awesome. New opportunities. God closes a door and opens a window. 

Fuck all of that bullshit. 

He didn’t say anything. He headed out to the front where Tom, sixteen and bubbly and everything Eric had been half a lifetime ago, was beaming at a sweet boy with brown curls. 

Fuck all of them. 

Fuck everything. 

He walked past. Out into the street. He walked to the bus stop and pulled out his wallet before remembering it was empty. He’d left the last of his change on the kitchen counter for Michael that morning, of course. Walked in. The walk would do him good. And it was pay day tomorrow. 

Shit, he’d never asked for his last wage. He should go back but…

Tears were threatening. He turned to the wall, pulling his coat up around his ears to hide his face. Nobody found it attractive when a man in his thirties started to cry in the street. He was better than that. 

He’d walk home. That was all. It’d be better, anyway. He’d walk home and feed Michael and have a good cry and then tomorrow he’d come back and he’d give Barbara a piece of his mind and everything would look better, that was all. He’d make it look better. 

***

He’d been right; the walk had been good for his head. By the time he reached his own front door, he managed to force a smile. He wasn’t feeling the smile yet, not really, but he managed to get it onto his face at least and that was half the battle. 

Everything was going to be fine. 

He opened the door to chaos. Michael was obviously home because there were discarded hockey pads all over the floor. Those things were expensive! Eric had told him a million times to put them back where they belonged. He made his way over to the kitchenette where there was a bottle of milk left out and the empty pasta dish from last night. Eric picked it up with a sigh. He had been hoping there’d be enough left for both of them but, well, Michael was a growing boy and hockey used up a lot of energy. 

He tidied up the kitchen and picked up the pads before daring to try and track down his son. If he wasn’t in the sitting room there was really only one other place he could be, so Eric let himself through to his son’s bedroom. 

Michael’s room reminded Eric of the barely controlled chaos that had been Shitty’s room. There were piles of takeaway cartons (and where did he even get the money for that?), peeling posters of hockey players all over the walls (Eric tried not to think about the Zimmerman one at the foot of the bed) and thick black curtains pulled over the window. Michael was slumped on the bed, earphones in, playing a game. 

Business as usual then. 

“Hey,” Eric said, loudly, stepping into the room. “How was practice?” 

Michael glared but when Eric just carried on standing there with what he hoped was a pleasant smile on his face, Michael huffed and pulled the earphones out of his ear. 

“What do you want?” 

“I just asked how practice went.” 

“Like you even care,” Michael spat. He seemed to hunch further down in the bed, though Eric would have said that wasn’t possible. Eric’s heart sank. It was going to be one of those conversations. 

“Of course I care, sweetie. Did you find the money I left for you this morning?” 

“It wasn’t enough,” Michael said.

“Honey, I left you ten dollars. You only had to get the bus. I packed you a lunch.” 

“What’s your problem? I ate it and I was still hungry. Get off my case.” 

Eric took a calming breath. Michael was a teenager; he didn’t mean to be this rude. The divorce had come at a bad time in his emotional development and it was only natural that he’d act out in this way. At least, that was what their therapist had said when they’d still had enough money to afford a therapist. 

“Well, you’re going to have to walk in tomorrow,” he said, stepping a little further into the room. “I don’t have any money for you until then.” 

“Whatever,” Michael said, glaring. “You know, all my friends parents give them, like, ten dollars every day.” 

“Well, you go to a very good school. Look, honey, I know you don’t like me being in here but will you let me clear a few of these boxes? I swear to you that I won’t touch anything but takeaway containers.” 

“No,” Michael growled. “Leave my things alone, get out.” 

“Well, okay,” Eric said, retreating a step. His stomach clenched and he had to look away from Michael. It was easier to focus on the mess anyway. He’d never even let the Haus get into this state and that was a frat house. “I guess it’s important for you to have your space. I just think…” 

“No you don’t,” Michael interrupted, suddenly standing up and sending the laptop clattering to the floor. Eric winced; he really couldn’t afford to have that fixed if it broke. “You never fucking think and I hate you.” 

“Michael…” 

“No,” Michael yelled, grabbing some of the boxes and throwing them. Eric stepped quickly back into the hallway to avoid them. “I hate you. I wish you’d fucking die. I want to go live with dad.” 

“Well…he doesn’t want that right now,” Eric said, biting back something more cutting. He didn’t want that at all. Didn’t want anything to do with either of them and, as Eric now understood it, was currently living in Las Vegas with an underwear model. 

“My god why are you so fucking shit,” Michael said as he appeared in the doorway to his room. His hands were balled into fists. 

“Michael.” 

“You just come barging in here shouting at me and I’ve not even done anything.” 

“I didn’t shout.” 

“No, you never shout. But you say it in this stupid fucking voice and normal people fucking shout, Eric.” 

There were tears threatening now. He hated being yelled at. Some part of him was still waiting for the check. Waiting for the punch or the shove. But Michael wouldn’t. He had to believe that. “Can you please…?” 

“I don’t know why I even stay here.” Michael was vibrating with anger. This was normally the point where he slammed his door and started blasting his music at full volume but he took a step forward instead, into the doorway. He was still shorter than Eric, but he was built and pretty intimidating for a 14 year old. “You’re not even my real dad.” 

“Michael, I’m the only dad you’ve got. I’m sorry, I…” 

“I hate you,” Michael yelled, and then he was running out of the door and down the corridor. He stopped to shove the hockey pads out across the floor again. “I fucking hate you and I’m going to go and live with dad and never see you again.” 

“Michael…” 

Michael pulled the front door open, threw himself through it, and crashed straight into the chest of Jack Zimmerman. 

***

For a moment, they all froze. Jack, in the doorway, hand raised to knock. Michael, a step back from him, gaping like a fish. Eric, half way down the hall, staggering back against the wall. 

Before Eric could even really start to process it, Shitty was shoving past and coming down the hallway, scooping Eric up in his arms. Eric let out what was probably a pretty undignified squeal and clung on for dear life as Shitty tried to swing him around in his tiny hallway, realized that wasn’t going to happen, and lowered him back to the ground. 

“Oh my gosh,” Eric said, “What on Earth are y’all doing here?” 

“Bits,” Shitty said, and then he went in for a hair ruffle, apparently settling for that when the spinning wasn’t a thing that was going to happen. “Bittle, my man! We came to visit.” 

Eric managed a glance to the door. Jack was still lurking outside, looking a little lost. Michael was still stood there on the step, staring up in awe. And it was utterly ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous and he’d just had the worst day of his life and he couldn’t cope with this, not right now. 

He started to cry. 

There was an awkward moment where Shitty froze. It was enough for Eric to pull himself away. To drop down to the floor. To curl in on himself and hide his head on his knees. 

He couldn’t do this. He’d lost his piece of crap job. He had literally no money. His son hated him and probably had cause too and now Shitty and Jack were here and he hadn’t seen either of them in so long and he didn’t want them to see him today. Didn’t want them to see him like this. 

“Dad…” 

“Maybe we should go…” 

“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just… can I get a minute?” 

“Sure, Brah,” Shitty said. There was a pause then Shitty moving. Quiet voices but Eric ignored them. He put his head down and let himself sob. Just for a minute. Just for one minute, he wouldn’t be okay. Then he’d go out there and talk to them and everything would be alright. 

He could do this. 

Only he couldn’t, and now he’d started to cry he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop imagining Shitty and Jack in his little crappy sitting room. Top lawyer B. Knight and Zimmerman, until recently of the NHL, in his crap hole of a living room with its peeling wallpaper. 

They were going to judge him. He knew they would, and they’d be right to. It wasn’t meant to be like this. His life wasn’t meant to be this. He’d wanted…

There were footsteps. Heavy. Cautious. Jack, then. And then the sound of something being set down. He glanced to the side. One of his old, chipped, Falconer’s mugs. When Steve had left them, Eric had dug out all the things from before so that he and Michael would have at least something. Even if the mugs hurt to look at, they never hurt enough to spend the money to replace them. 

“If you want us to go, we’ll go. Or I’ll go. I can remove Shitty.” 

Eric sincerely doubted that and couldn’t help an undignified snort. But, at the same time, he was sure Jack would try. 

“Still thinking all my problems are about you, then?” 

“I didn’t…” 

“I’ve just…I’ve had a day, Jack. I’ll be okay in a minute or two. I just…just give me a minute, okay?” 

Jack didn’t say anything but after a few awkward seconds he did head away again. Eric risked reaching out and grabbing the mug. Coffee. Made just as he liked it - which meant Jack had probably used up the last of his sugar. Ah well, you won some and you lost some. 

He sipped it slowly, trying to make it last as he unwound himself. 

He was going to have to make them leave, that was all. He was going to have to somehow convince Jack and Shitty that there was nothing wrong with him, though thank you very much for stopping in, and then he was going to have to make them leave. 

He didn’t have the faintest idea how he was going to do that. Not now Shitty had been here. Unless he’d changed significantly, he wasn’t going to walk away from this. 

But Eric would cope. He always coped. 

He slowly pushed himself back up the wall. He took a moment to head into the bedroom to change out of his work shirt, then headed round to the sitting room. 

It was very bizarre to walk into his sitting room and see Jack Zimmerman squeezed onto his two man couch with his fourteen year old son. Shitty was sprawled out on the floor drinking a coffee. So they’d probably cleaned him out of coffee too. 

“Hey,” he said, doing his best to smile. “Sorry about that, y’all. Rough day.” 

“Its fine, we’re sorry,” Jack said, but almost before the words were fully out of his mouth, Shitty had stood up again and pulled Eric into a tight hug. Eric managed to bite down on the tears welling up and close his arms around Shitty instead, returning the hug. 

“Brah,” Shitty said against his hair. “Come on, we’re taking you out to eat.” 

“Oh, y’all don’t have to.” 

“It’s not even a thing,” Shitty said, squeezing him and stepping back. “Mini Bittle, go wear something that’s not sports clothes.” 

“I’m not even a Bittle,” Michael said, pulling himself out of the couch. But he did slouch off towards his room. He didn’t even yell and when he got there he shut the door peacefully. 

“Not a Bittle?” Jack asked, frowning. 

“He kept Steve’s last name. I’m a Bittle again, though.” 

Jack nodded, but there was a tightness to his jaw. Like he was acknowledging the message but not fully agreeing with it. He could do what he wanted, he’d forfeited his right to any say on Eric’s life many years ago. 

Luckily, before he could say anything else, Michael’s door opened again and he emerged in his least ratty jeans and a button down. Apparently that was acceptable as Shitty began herding them all towards the door. Eric let himself be herded. He didn’t want charity but he did want to eat tonight and tomorrow he’d tell Shitty to back off, that Eric could deal with his own problems. 

***

There was a time when Eric thought that the most surreal thing that was ever going to happen to him was Jack Zimmerman running into his room in his graduation robes and kissing him. 

He’d very much like to go back to those simpler times. 

Now, he was sat in the booth of the diner down the street. It wasn’t exactly a classy place and at least two people were already side-eyeing Jack like they’d come over any minute and ask for autographs though he was clearly busy. Michael was wedged into the booth beside Jack, uncharacteristically silent and looking up at Jack with stars in his eyes. Shitty was pursuing the menu with determination. 

They were all silent. It was strange and wrong and he wanted to go home. 

In the end it was Michael who broke the silence. He shifted, coughed, blushed and then said “Ah…uh…Mr Zimmerman?” 

“You can call me Jack,” Jack said, flashing him a tight little smile. One that Eric immediately categorized as ‘not really comfortable but trying’. But what did he know? It’d been a long time since he claimed any kind of special knowledge of Jack Zimmerman. Maybe he’d changed his entire facial expression repertoire since then. 

“Jack,” Michael said, a little reverently. A little too reverently. It’d be adorable to see Michael so taken if it wasn’t with Eric’s ex-boyfriend. “What was it like winning the Stanley cup?” 

“It was great,” Jack said with his PR smile. Eric bit the inside of his cheek. Jack had won the year he’d transferred. The year he’d left Eric. Or Eric had left him. They’d said it was mutual but somehow Eric had never felt like it was what he actually wanted. He hadn’t watched the game live, too heartbroken, but he’d bought the DVD when it came out and watched every moment of it obsessively. He probably knew more about Jack’s first Stanley cup win at one point than Jack did. 

He’d thrown the DVD out before they adopted Michael. 

“I just…” Michael said, but trailed off, apparently unable to finish the conversation. Jack shifted awkwardly. 

“So,” Eric said, quickly. “What brings y’all here after all this time anyway?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Shitty said, dropping his menu. “Shit, we didn’t say?” 

“No, you didn’t. Also, can you maybe watch your mouth around my kid?” 

“Dad, I’m 14,” Michael hissed, blushing. Honestly, Eric just took it as a good thing that Michael had called him dad. He tried to avoid it these days. 

“Sure,” Shitty said, leaning back in his chair. “Anyway, I had, like, an epiphany you know, brah? Like, I woke up one morning and I just got out of bed and I’d slept with this girl and, fuck, Bitts…” 

“Language.” 

“She could have been my kid. And it was skeevy as all hell and I was already feeling like…not good, you know, brah? And I stumbled into my bathroom and looked around and I thought, what even is this? I mean, like, if Samwell me could see now me, he’d punch me in the jaw. Like, for real, Bitts. Last month I defended a cereal company because some kid choked to death on some shit they let get into a box. This is not what I’m here for.” 

“So…you’re here because?” 

“Right. Anyway, I thought to myself, you’ve gotta reconnect, man. Gotta get back to the bro you were and work out what’s really important to you, right? So I figured, road trip. Travel around the US and see all my bros from Samwell. We rolled a dice and you came up first.” 

“You let him decide where you were going by rolling a dice?” Eric asked, directing a raised eyebrow at Jack. 

“Die. And he made me.” 

“Well…it sounds like you need a break,” Eric said, hoping he sounded appropriately commiserating. He got what Shitty was saying, he did, it just sounded like, well, it sounded like another world. Where someone had the money to just take off for a road trip because they were feeling out of touch. Hell, where you got to choose your job based on what you liked instead of what you had to do to get by. 

“Totes,” Shitty said. “You know if the bacon’s any good here.” 

“It’s bacon,” Eric said with a shrug. He’d stopped being so picky about food about the time the child support payments stopped coming through. Raising a teenage hockey player was really more about quantity than quality. 

“Right,” Shitty said, but he looked at Eric suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. Eric looked away. Maybe he could have faked an opinion?. Made himself sound more like the himself they expected him to be? When had he even last spoken to Shitty? Not since his wedding, maybe? “Anyway, Jack, why’d you agree to this?” 

“Seemed like something to do,” Jack said, shrugging awkwardly again. “And someone’s gotta make sure this guy doesn’t kill himself.” 

“Hey, I resent that,” Shitty said, reaching across the table to swat at Jack. Eric reached up without thinking to stop them then pulled his hand back. “Truth is, I dragged him out here, Bitts. Gotta leave your cave sometimes, Mr. Hockey Robot.” 

“I’m not a hockey robot,” Jack said, frowning. “And Robots don’t even live in caves. Fu…get lost, Shitty.” 

Eric smiled at the narrowly avoided swear even as he saw Michael bristle at it. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up. Michael always hated being talked down to, and lord knew the kid probably heard worse on the ice, but to Eric he was always going to be at least a little bit the eight year old with scraped knees they’d brought home forever. 

Though maybe he’d have been better going home forever with someone else. 

“Well, I think it’s great that y’all are getting out. Thanks for stopping in.” 

“Hey, no problem brah,” Shitty said, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “But come on, what’s the deal with you?” 

“Oh, nothing.” 

“Dude, don’t tell me that,” Shitty said, squeezing him, and Shitty might have been off the ice for longer than Eric but he still clearly kept in shape because where Eric had softened, Shitty was still a wall of muscle. 

“Shitts, drop it if he doesn’t want to talk.” 

“Dude!” Shitty said. Eric felt his legs swing under the table so he was probably kicking Jack. “Come on. Bitts, you know we’ve got your back, right?” 

“Just been a bad day is all,” Eric said with a smile. Bad month. Bad year. Bad decade. All the same, really. 

“But…” 

“Shits,” Jack said, voice sharp. “If he doesn’t want to talk, drop it.” 

There was a moment of awkward silence. Shitty’s arm stayed around his shoulder Eric’s then, slowly, he drew back. It was such a defeated movement that Eric almost pulled him back. Almost apologized. But he really didn’t want to talk about it, after all. 

“So,” Michael said, softly. “I kind of like the bacon here.”

***

Eric opened his door the next day to Jack and Shitty, laden down with bags of shopping. He should probably have expected it. He should have known that them letting him change the subject the night before was too good to be true. 

"Brah," Shitty said, barging straight past him. "We brought you coffee and shit." 

"You really don’t have to," Eric said, but he knew better than to resist. If they thought they could fix his life with a few groceries that, well, it wasn't exactly like Eric was in any position to refuse. He'd been to his former employer already that morning, walking all the way there and back and he didn't have a thing to show for it. Barbara had made sympathetic noises and talked about the economy and basically anything he might be able to do to get that last week's wage back was more than he could afford. 

Jack shuffled in behind Shitty. He, at least, had the good grace to look a little shame-faced. But he was still holding several bags. 

"It's only fair," Shitty was saying, letting himself into Eric's kitchen. "We drank the last of your coffee last night and you might have already got more, yeah, but we figured it was worth the risk." 

"Well, thank you," Eric said. Easier not to resist since Shitty was already unloading the bags. He'd brought fresh veg, bless his soul. Eric wouldn't be able to make it last like he would canned goods but at least they'd eat well for a few days. Maybe he could make some meals and freeze them. 

"Is Michael here?" Jack asked, looking around as he deposited his bags. He looked a little nervous at the prospect. 

"Nope, last day of school before the break. And then hockey after school." And lord, then Michael home all day. While Eric was home all day. He hadn't exactly told Michael that he'd lost his job yet; in the wake of Shitty and Jack crashing into their lives, they'd almost gotten on and he hadn't wanted to ruin it. It'd been so long. 

He loved his son, he really did. Some days he just wished he didn't live with him. 

"He any good?" Jack asked. And bless his little hockey loving heart for asking. 

"He's okay. I haven't been able to get away to see him play for a little while. Might be good enough for a hockey scholarship for college, if we're lucky." 

"But not for the NHL?" 

Eric blushed. "Well, I can't exactly afford the training and such that he'd need to have a look in. But he sure loves it. He's got a poster of you in his room." 

Jack's turn to blush. "It must be strange, eh." 

"Very," Eric said. 

"So," Shitty interrupted, apparently done re-supplying Eric's larder. "Real talk, brah. You gonna tell us what's up?" 

"It's nothing..." 

"Bullshit," Shitty interrupted. "It's fucking something, Brah. Give us some credit." 

"I'm fine." 

"Shitty..." Jack said, coming to stand a little behind Eric. It was weird how, after so long and after everything, they still seemed to fall into these patterns. 

"Jack, brah, you're seriously going to tell me you'll be okay getting in a car in a couple of hours and driving away like this?" 

There was a second's hesitation then Jack backed away. Traitor. 

"Fine," Eric said, jaw tightening. "Fine. If you need to know, I lost my job." 

"Shit, Brah." 

"It was a crap job, but I lost it. I don't have any money. Or food, though I guess you've solved that. I don't know...I just...I don't know." 

He stepped forward, dodging past Shitty to get to the coffee maker. It was a decrepit old thing, he was honestly surprised that Jack and Shitty had managed to coax a cup out of it the night before but he was a good host and he was going to make them a cup of coffee. 

He didn't realise he was crying until Shitty was hugging him, then he couldn't stop, bringing his hands up to press against his eyes while Shitty hugged him from behind. 

“Brah,” Shitty said, manhandling him and then Eric really didn’t have a choice but to turn around and bury his face in Shitty’s chest. “Fucking sucks.” 

“Yeah,” Eric agreed through his tears. 

A second later there was a tentative hand on his back and then Jack was hugging them both. He was stood in his tiny run down kitchen with his ex boyfriend and his ex boyfriend’s best friend hugging him and he couldn’t even summon the will to move. It was the most comforted he’d felt in years. 

Which probably said more than he wanted it to about the general state of his life. 

“Thanks, guys,” he said, finally, trying to draw away. Jack moved to let him. “I’ll be fine. It’s all just a bit much.” 

“Brah, don’t even worry.” Shitty ruffled his hair. “We’ve got you covered.” 

“Shitts.” 

“You should come on the road trip with us.” 

Eric froze. Behind him, he was pretty sure Jack was doing the same thing. 

Hell no. 

Their pity, their charity, he could understand, but there was no way he was going to spend a week or, hell, however long they were thinking of travelling, in close proximity with Jack. It just wasn’t going to happen. It would be strange and awkward. He hadn’t even seen Jack in so long. Their last memories together were still full of last kisses and regretful goodbyes and why-did-it-have-to-end-this-ways. 

Nothing in the world was getting him into that car. 

“It’ll be epic, Brah,” Shitty was saying in front of him. “And a complete change, just what you need. And you don’t have to worry about money or any shit because me and Jack’ve got that covered. And then we can set you up with some money until you get a job and you’ll be feeling all relaxed and positive and shit and…” 

“Shitty, stop. I’m not coming with you.” 

“Bitts…” 

“No, Shitty. I’m not. This isn’t college any more. I have responsibilities here. I have a son. I can’t just pull him out of hockey to take off on a road trip. I can’t ask him to leave his friends just because I’ve decided I want to reconnect.” 

“But Bitts…” 

“I’m not doing it.” 

There was a second where Eric thought Shitty was going to argue more, but then he slumped in defeat. It was a sad thing to see but not sad enough to make Eric change his mind. 

“Hey,” Jack said, awkwardly. “Can I use your bathroom?” Probably wanted to escape the tension. 

“Go ahead,” Eric said, waving him off. “Second door on the right.” 

Jack went. Eric went back to brewing the coffee. Shitty slumped against the kitchen counter like his entire world was over and he wanted everyone to know just how terrible it was. Like Eric’s teenage son did. Only when Michael did it, it was more effective. 

“Is this a Jack thing?” Shitty asked, eventually. “I mean, he’s out of the room now so you can tell me. Because if you want me to just help without Jack knowing I can?” 

“No,” Eric said, because it wasn’t. Though Jack made it worse, of course. It was bad enough to have anyone show up when you were in the mess he was in, but your ex? Who was apparently everything you remember him being and more? 

But while Jack made it worse, he wasn’t the only reasons Eric was saying no, he was sure of that. As much as Jack’s opinion mattered, so did Shitty. 

“You sure?” 

“Positive.” Even as a little part of his head said maybe not. Maybe it was true that he didn’t want Jack’s image of him to be entirely destroyed. Maybe he wanted to cling to the ragged corner of the dream that Jack would one day just swoop in and fix everything for him somehow. 

Though maybe it was time to give up that dream anyway. He hadn’t really believed in it in a long time. 

By the time Jack came back, Eric had the coffee served up into mugs and they took one each. Eric moved to go sit down, neither of them followed him. 

“Come on,” he said, taking a spot on the floor next to the TV so as to leave the seats open for guests. “Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Jack followed him, also choosing a spot on the floor. He lowered himself slowly and stuck his legs out in front of himself. Probably in deference to the ankle injury that had ended his career. It made Eric’s heart ache a little to see the proof that time had moved on. In so many ways, Jack didn’t look so different from the man he’d known. Shitty was slower to leave the kitchen. 

“It’s just…what about money, Bitts? I’ll give you enough for a few months.” 

“No, you won’t,” Eric said. “I’ll call my mom later and we’ll have another argument about how I’m wasting my life but she’ll lend me enough to get by. I’ll be fine.” 

“But, Brah, I’ll just give you it. You don’t need to borrow. I can literally just give you the money.” 

“And that’s very sweet of you,” Eric said, slowly, “But you can’t ride in here and solve all my problems. That’s not how this works.” 

“Then how does it work?” Shitty said. “’Cause as far as I can see, we can help and you just won’t let us because you’re stubborn.” 

“It’s nothing to do with that,” Eric said with a sigh. “Shitty, we’re not friends any more. I can’t take your money because I hardly know you.” 

“Sure you do.” 

“No,” Eric said, setting his mug aside and standing. “I really don’t. I mean, Jack’s my ex. I haven’t spoken to him in…” 

“Nine years,” Jack supplied when Eric didn’t finish his sentence. 

“But Brah…” 

“And I’ve not seen you since my wedding. I mean, Shitts, I’ve adopted a kid since then. I got divorced. I’m not the person you knew and you’re not the person I knew. You’re going to have to come to terms with that. You can’t fix me.” 

“But, Bitts, we’re teammates.” 

“No, Shitty. We were. In college. Not now. I just… can you just go, please? I can’t do this now. It’s very sweet of y’all to come and see me and I’m glad you did but it’s not a good time. Maybe in a few months but…” 

“It’s okay,” Jack said, standing. 

“What, no it’s not!” 

“Shitty,” Jack said, voice soft. “We talked about this last night. We can’t force help on people who don’t want it.” 

“But…” 

“Thank you, Jack,” Eric said. He even meant it. It’d be easy to take Shitty’s money. To take Jacks’ money. But it wouldn’t fix a damn thing about his life.

“Brah…” 

“Just, Bitts, here.” Jack fumbled for a minute then pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. Eric took it and unfolded it. A number was scrawled across it. “For if you change your mind, okay?” 

“I won’t,” Eric said. “But okay.” 

***

Eric slammed the door and dropped his bag just inside. 

It was okay. It was still okay. It was day two. Day two of being unemployed was too soon to freak out. He’d written up his CV. He’d handed some out. That was a start. He was going to be okay. 

It was just that everyone he’d handed one to had met his smile with cold indifference, slipping the paper under a desk without even looking at it. Those things cost money to print. He’d been looking online but applying for jobs on his phone screen wasn’t the easiest thing. 

He’d get something, though. He had to get something. 

He took a breath, held it for a few seconds, then pushed off the wall. His back was aching from carrying the bag all day. He hated that, those little signs that he wasn’t as young as he used to be. Like the teenage son wasn’t a giveaway. 

Thinking of. 

The living room was empty but there was music blearing from the back bedroom. Eric made his way over to the kitchenette. There was food, at least. Vegetables still there, though Michael seemed to be making an effort to put a dint into everything else. He was a teenager, it was fine. 

He made himself a salad and headed to the couch. Sank back into the cushions. 

He was going to be okay. He’d make this okay. 

His phone rang. 

He pulled it out quickly then dropped it back onto the couch when he saw who it was. Steve. Damnit, he didn’t want to talk to Steve. It was bad enough usually but right now, when he didn’t have a single good thing to say about his life? Oh yeah, hi Steve, my other ex turned up and wanted to pity me so that was a thing. Hey Steve, I don’t know how I’m going to feed our kid this month so would you mind actually paying some of the money you owe me? 

That wasn’t a bad idea, actually. 

The call had dropped but the phone started ringing again almost straight away and Eric answered it. 

“Hey.” 

“Eric.” Steve sounded stressed, distracted. Eric bit his lip. A little bit of him heard that and still wanted to rush over there and make it all better. Even though he knew he couldn’t. Even though he knew that was what caused half their problems to start with. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to call.” 

“You need to talk to the school. They called me instead of you again.” 

For a second Eric’s heart jumped, but there was still the pounding of music from down the hall. He was here, probably. Eric should have maybe gone and checked on him when he came in but he just wanted five minutes. He just wanted to eat. 

“What did the school want?” 

“I don’t care.” 

“I know, Steve. And I’m sorry you had to take a call that you didn’t want to.” 

“I was in a meeting, Eric.” 

“I’m sorry,” Eric said, biting his lip. He hated this. Hated Steve’s tone and his own tone and how he seemed to just roll over and show his belly whenever Steve was upset, but he didn’t know how to stop. 

He just wanted it all to stop. 

“Talk to the school.” 

“I will, I swear, I just need to know what they said.” 

“Fine,” Steve said, as though Eric had hugely inconvenienced him. “Something about Michael’s off the hockey team? He punched someone or swore or something? Like I know.” 

Eric couldn’t help but think that it was unlikely that Michael’d be thrown out of hockey for punching and swearing. He’d been in enough changing rooms to know the norm. But clearly he wasn’t going to get anything out of Steve so he was going to have to talk to Michael about it. 

Why couldn’t it all just stop? 

“Thank you. Actually, though, I need to talk to you. I’ve…come into some temporary difficulties. I’m going to need some money.” 

“So? I’m not your ATM.” 

“Steve, you haven’t paid me a penny for Michael in years. Not a penny.” 

“I pay his school fees.” 

“And that’s nice and all but going to a good school won’t be much use to him if I can’t feed him. I just need a little. You know you’re supposed to pay me every month.” 

“Oh, like that’s fair,” Steve groused, and Eric hated him. Hated his stupid, childish, selfishness. How had he mistaken it for neediness for so long? How had he thought he’d ever be enough to fill the gaping hole of me, me, me inside Steve? “Why should I have to pay for your kid?” 

“You signed the adoption papers too. You can see him if you want. He’d love to see you.” 

“He’s nothing to do with me. When we got divorced, you should have sent him back.” 

“He’s not a stray, Steve. I can’t just send him back. He’s our son.” 

“Your son. Anyway, I’m going. I don’t need this, Eric. I’ve got a new life now with someone who isn’t as fucking demanding, I don’t need to hear about you or your kid.” 

“Please, Steve. You owe me this. Please.” 

There was a pause. This was where, in the old days, Eric would beg. He’d offer anything he had, like Steve hadn’t already taken everything and found it lacking. He’d been so pitiful. Was so pitiful. 

Then Steve hung up. 

Charming. 

He’d just have to beg to his mom instead, then. Right after he found out why Michael was apparently kicked out of hockey. 

***

Michael was buried under a pile of blankets. The lights were all out. Music was screaming through the speakers of his laptop which was at an odd angle on the floor. There was also crumpled paper all over the floor. The hockey posters, the ones that’d been all over the walls, torn down. There was a broken hockey stick in the middle of the floor. 

He was never giving his son privacy again. 

“Baby,” Eric said softly, flipping the light on. The pile under the blankets shifted a little. Slowly, he stepped into the room. He got to the laptop first and killed the sound. Once it was gone, he could hear the crying. 

His heart broke a little. Fuck whoever’d hurt his baby like this. He was going to make them pay. 

“Baby, what’s wrong,” he said, moving over to the bed. Michael didn’t shout so he dared to take a seat on the edge. As he did he looked down and realized he was standing on Jack Zimmermann’s face. Must have been bad for Michael to have torn even this poster down. Eric picked it up and slowly smoothed it out. 

It’d be nice to have Jack here right now. Someone to pull him close and kiss the top of his head and tell him he wasn’t alone. 

It was a nice dream. He set the poster aside. 

“Come on, sugar,” he said, patting the bump in the blanket that he hoped was Michael’s shoulder. “Talk to me.” 

“Get lost.” 

It was a start. “I just got a phone call. Something about hockey?” 

“Get lost.” 

“Okay,” Eric said, softly. “We don’t have to talk about it. Would you like a hug, though?” 

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Michael hadn’t hugged him in goodness only knew how long, but Michael hadn’t been this upset in goodness only knew how long either. Eric waited. Then Michael pulled the covers back. He looked a mess. Eyes puffy, skin blotchy. He didn’t move closer and Eric didn’t push him. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Michael said. 

“Okay,” Eric said, softly. “So…what happened?” 

“I punched Dan hard enough to knock out his tooth.” 

Well, damn it all. Eric clenched his jaw a little. They weren’t a strictly no contact league but that was definitely going to cause trouble. Especially since Steve clearly wasn’t going to go to bat for them. 

“Well…that’s not great,” he said. “But honey, we can take care of this. I’ll phone the school after the break. Talk to the coach. He’ll understand, I’m sure, if you just explain to him why you did it.” 

“No.” 

“Michael.” 

“No. It doesn’t matter why I did it. I did it and I’m not sorry and I don’t even want to play on their stupid team any more. I don’t even want to play hockey.” 

It took a real force of will not to snap at that. Not to point out that playing hockey was all Michael had right now. He sure as hell wasn’t going to college on the money Eric had and he doubted Steve would pay. Without a hockey scholarship he wasn’t going to get in anywhere and everything Eric had put into it these last few years would be wasted. Everything he’d given up to buy Michael sticks and pads and oh lord, he didn’t have the money to do this again. The stick in the middle of the room was more than he could replace, smashed into bits and Michael was only a child so he shouldn’t be mad but…

What was he going to do? 

He couldn’t make this right. 

“Are you excluded, too?” 

“First week back.” 

Two weeks, then. Eric laughed. He shut it down as soon as it started, before it could get hysterical, but it was still enough to get Michael looking at him with a raised eyebrow. 

He’d be home for two weeks, under Eric’s feet. Eating the food they didn’t have. With no hockey. Hockey was gone. 

Oh maybe he’d calm down, but Eric’d still have to beg to maybe get him back into the team. Still have to replace that stick, somehow. Maybe he could sell… but he’d sold everything he had that was worth anything. He didn’t have anything. He wasn’t going to be able to make rent this month and he didn’t know what he was going to do. 

“Eric?” 

He stood up. Left Michael. He couldn’t deal with this now. He didn’t know how to cope with this. 

He headed to the bathroom. The only room with a lockable door. Shut himself in and crouched down on the floor. He pressed his forehead to the worn tiles and bit back on a scream. 

He couldn’t do this. Not right now. He wasn’t going to be able to fix this and Michael was going to suffer. Michael was going to end up not having a decent education - going to end up stuck in the same hell Eric was in himself right now, qualified only for the dregs of jobs that nobody wanted and unable to provide for himself. 

He was the worst dad ever. 

Steve was right, he should have let go of Michael when they divorced. He hadn’t wanted Michael to think he wasn’t loved. To have to go through the system again. But maybe that’d be better than having a failure for a dad. 

Then something caught Eric’s eye. He stood, slowly. Under the spare toilet roll and god, he’d been such a fool. 

He counted the notes. Then stopped because there were too many and he had to breath for a minute. 

Jack had left it. It had to be. He’d used the bathroom - he must have hidden the money. Eric hadn’t wanted this. Hadn’t wanted charity. 

But wasn’t it like Jack to give him what he needed anyway? 

He stood, unlocked the door and went through to his room. 

There was a piece of paper on the bedside table. A set of numbers. The same ones he’d memorized in college against the incredibly unlikely scenario that his phone went missing, and wasn’t that just Jack all over? To have the same number after all this time? 

Jack picked up on the third ring. 

“Hello?” 

“I think I want to change my mind.”


	2. Ransom and Holster

They weren’t even out of Providence and Eric was already starting to re-think this. The air in the car was so thick you could have cut it. They’d come back. It’d only taken them an hour which meant they hadn’t gone far which meant they’d probably been sat there, just outside town, waiting for Eric to fail…

He was being uncharitable. He knew he was. They were just trying to support him. That was all. 

He shouldn’t have called. 

Jack and Shitty were sat up front. Shitty driving, Jack fiddling with his phone. Not using it, just turning it in his hand. Any normal person would have put the radio on to flood the silence, but Jack didn’t. He’d never been good at this kind of thing. If it were anyone else up there, Eric’d poke them to do it or lean forward to do it himself but it wasn’t and he didn’t know how Jack would react. 

He didn’t know how any of them would react. He didn’t know why he’d done this, other than it’d all been too much. And they had the time, suddenly. 

Michael, at least, seemed excited. If a little bewildered. But, then, if someone appeared in your room and started throwing your things into a bag and talking about road trips when y’all didn’t even have a car, you’d be worried too. He should have explained better, maybe. But how could he explain? He didn’t even understand. It was just that everything was a mess and he was so tired and maybe Steve was right, maybe he couldn’t cope? 

Shitty coughed, shifted in his seat. Jack’s hands stilled for a second, but when Shitty didn’t say anything he went back to spinning his phone. 

Eric should say something. 

He knew he should. He was always the chatty one. The one who made every awkward social situation that little bit easier. 

He was scared, though. Scared of what might come out if he opened his mouth. 

He hated this. 

He shouldn’t have called. He should have just screamed into his pillow a little like he usually did and then got on with his life. Begged for money. Begged for work. Smiled and pretended that it was going to be okay and hoped that somehow it would come true. 

He had a terrible track record with that at the moment, though. 

He should just call the entire thing off. They weren’t too far. He could say he’d changed his mind. He could…

He glanced over to Michael. Michael who was smiling. Not a big smile, but a smile. Not like the smiles Michael had given them when he’d first come into their lives, all awkward limbs and missing teeth and pain. And what had Eric ever really done to help him smile? When was the last time he’d done anything just to make Michael happy? 

He was the worst. 

He clenched his fists, let his fingernails dig into soft palms. He could do this. 

He just had to…

“So,” Jack said, turning in his seat slightly to make eye contact with Michael, “You see the Falconer’s game last night?” 

“I saw the highlight reel,” Michael said, a little too quickly, then blushed. “It was pretty awesome. They were stupid, getting rid of you.” 

And oh lord, he had to bring that up. Eric could feel the sting of his nails into his palms again. Good job they weren’t sharp enough to draw blood, he wouldn’t want to make a mess of this nice car. He shouldn’t have phoned. It was going to be awkward and…

Jack was laughing. A soft, almost not there laugh but, still, a laugh. 

“Yeah, I’d have liked to stay,” he said, like it was that easy. “In hockey, you don’t always get to choose, though. Or life’d be pretty different for me right now.” 

“Sure,” Michael said, though he obviously didn’t catch the undercurrent of the conversation. If Jack hadn’t been transferred. If he’d stayed. If they hadn’t…

“Still, the Falconer’s are still a good team,” Jack said. “They’ve got some good talent coming up…” 

And like that, he was off. Eric should have known to just go with hockey. It was the one thing Jack had always been willing to talk at length about. And Michael and Shitty seemed more than happy to join in, going over the game last night in great depth and Eric…

Eric let himself lean back into the plush seat. He let his eyes drift closed, let the conversation wrap him up. 

For now, they had this. Later, he’d step in. Do what they expected him to. Carry the conversation. Make them smile. For now, for just a minute, he was going to close his eyes and enjoy not having to be that guy. 

***

Eric woke as the car stopped. It was quiet, dark. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep and for a second irritation flooded him but, well, they were apparently where they were meant to be and nobody was dead. Michael was curled up against the window with a jacket tucked under his head. Eric had to bite down on the impulse to reach over and touch his hair. 

“Hey,” Jack said, softly. Eric glanced up to find him in the driver’s seat. He looked tired. Soft. Eric had always loved Jack most in the quiet, tired moments of the night they’d stolen. 

He didn’t want to think about that right now. 

“Y’all should have woke me. I’d have taken a turn at driving.” 

“It was fine,” Jack said with a shrug. “I could have stopped a while back but everyone was sleeping and we were making good time so…we’ll stop on the way back down. I figured we could swing by the Niagra Falls. Rans and Holster will probably want to come with us. I mean, Michael’s probably seen it before but…” 

“That’s sweet of you, Jack. You don’t need to entertain my kid, though.” 

For a second, Jack’s face did something that Eric couldn’t quite read. It was strange, Eric was so used to knowing all his facial expressions but this one… well, it had been a long time. A lifetime, in a way. He wasn’t who he had been either. 

“Come on,” Jack said, opening the car door. “I’ll go get us some rooms, you wake the others.” 

Eric waited a second, watching Jack retreat across the pools of light in the motel car park. A traitorous part of him couldn’t help pointing out that whatever a career ending knee injury had done to Jack, it clearly hadn’t stopped him working out because: damn. 

He wasn’t going there, though. He was a grown man with a son and he wasn’t going to sit in a dark car and lust after Jack Zimmermann. He got over that in his 20s. 

Instead he reached over and gave in to the urge to brush an errant curl from Michael’s forehead before taking his shoulder and shaking him softly. 

“Uh, what?” 

“Wake up, sweety. We’re stopping for now.” 

Michael blinked for a second, then seemed to realize where he was and beamed, pushing himself up in his seat.

It made Eric’s heart do funny things so he turned to the front to wake Shitty up. He was a lot less elegant about his waking. Snorting and shifting about before he finally rolled over to glare at Eric. 

“Bro…” 

“Well, you can sleep in the car if you want but I believe Jack’s getting us beds.” 

“Bro,” Shitty said, softly and with obvious gratitude. He fumbled at the door handle and fell out onto the tarmac just as Jack came back over, holding out two keys. 

***

“BITTY!” 

Eric was a thirty-three year old man. He had presumed that his days of suddenly being lifted into the air were over. Obviously, nobody had passed this along as, seconds after the door opened, Eric found himself hoisted right off his feet and into Holster’s arms. He couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of his throat. 

“Oh, y’all put me down,” he shouted, though he also wrapped his arms around Holster’s neck. Holster didn’t listen anyway, just swinging him around like they were still barely 20. 

“Bitts, it’s been for fucking ever, man! Rans, come out here.” 

“I heard you.” 

Holster spun them around again and Eric found himself being deposited unceremoniously in Ransom’s lap. He scrambled to get up, not wanting to upset Ransom’s chair, but Ransom just laughed and hugged him and maybe it was okay? He let himself relax a little, hug Ransom back. 

Goodness but he’d missed these boys. 

Then Ransom was letting go at him so he stood up to let the others have a chance, retreating back to where Michael was stood on the edge of the group, arms crossed defensively over his chest. Michael took a step back as he came closer but Eric tried not to be offended. This must be strange for him, seeing Eric with friends. 

“Hey,” Holster said, swinging an arm around Eric’s shoulder again. Eric almost stumbled. “Is this Bittle the younger?” 

“No,” Michael spat, which made Holster’s face do something very odd that Eric didn’t want to think about too much. 

“Spencer. Michael Spencer, my son.” 

“Sure,” Holster said with a shrug. “Anyway, come on in. Our casa is your casa and all that good shit.” 

Eric couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he turned and followed the rest of the group into the house. 

Of course, he’d always known that Ransom and Holster would end up living together. He’d maybe not anticipated it lasting into their 30’s. He certainly hadn’t anticipated it looking like this. Their house was small and neat. Modified for Ransom’s chair. It was cosy in the way the Haus had been. There was still the aesthetic that thought it was a good idea to combine empty beer bottles and throw cushions for overall effect but the beer bottles were toned down. It felt like a home. 

It almost made him want to cry. Somehow, the way they spoke about it, he’d imagined the place being a small step up from a frat house. But it really wasn’t. 

They’d grown up. 

He followed the group through to the kitchen. And what a kitchen! Something warm settled in him on seeing it. 

“Gosh,” he said, edging around the room. “This place is lovely.” 

“’Cyeah.” Holster agreed from the table. “I’ve even learned to cook.” 

“Don’t believe him,” Ransom interrupted. “He can, like, boil water for pasta.” 

“I baked a pie the other day.” 

“Bro, you burnt a pie.” 

“Truth,” Holster said with a sigh, then cast a hopeful look at Eric who couldn’t help but laugh. He should have known he wouldn’t get far without someone asking him. 

“So…you have pie tins?” 

“Yeah, bro.” Holster was on his feet in an instant. “When Shitty phoned this morning we went and got butter and shit too. I mean, trying to be hospitable and all.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Eric said, but he was grinning. “Gosh, I can’t even remember the last time I made a pie just for me. Let me see what y’all have and I’m sure we can throw something together.” 

It took him a second to realize what the silence behind him meant. He’d admitted to not cooking for pleasure. Idiot. Well, Jack and Shitty had seen his kitchen so they shouldn’t be surprised but he could understand it from Ransom and Holster. Not that college Eric would have let the tiny kitchenette in his apartment stop him baking but when he spent all day flinging sub-standard pies about for little more than minimum wage…

But this was different. This was cooking for friends. This was a wide kitchen all for him and sun shining through the window. 

He ignored them, clattering around in the cupboards instead. Everything was arranged so Ransom would be able to get it which meant things weren’t maybe where Eric expected to find them but he’d work that out in no time flat. Behind him, conversation started again. 

“So, Shitts, what are you here for? Not that we don’t appreciate the visit but…” 

“Re-living our youth,” Shitty said. Eric would bet he was grinning though he didn’t dare check yet, unearthing a large ceramic bowl instead. “You act like we never come visit.” 

“Seriously, bro, it’s been a million years,” Ransom said, clearly teasing. “I mean, we haven’t even met Bitty’s kid before.” 

Eric opened his mouth then to protest that ‘his kid’ had a name but before he could, Jack started talking. “He’s called Michael.” 

Eric risked a glance. Michael was beaming at Jack like he’d up and hung the moon. He doubted he’d have got that expression if Eric intervened. 

But it was good. It was good that Michael was opening up to someone. 

He made his way to the fridge. They really hadn’t been kidding when they said they went and got butter for him. He laughed a little at the excess of it. He’d not had that much butter in one place himself in years but, then, he wasn’t a doctor or an accountant so… 

He was going to make so many pies. He wondered if they had the things for a maple crust. 

“So, we’re just going to sit around and watch Eric bake?” Michael asked, with all the tact of a teenager. Eric sighed and turned back to the table. 

“Well, we didn’t exactly have time to plan anything else,” Ransom said, grinning. “It was pretty much phone call, butter, then you were here. But there’s, like, the hockey hall of fame?” 

Jack groaned at that and Eric had to bite back on the little bubble of laughter that threatened. 

“Or we could go out to the falls?” Holster suggested. “Or the aquarium?” 

“Or the science centre,” Ransom said. “Damn but I love me the science centre. What do you think, Bitts?” 

Eric risked a glance at the bowl. An entire day to himself in a kitchen, well, that was a lot to ask. And they’d come such a long way for him to just sit around making pie. “The aquarium could be nice.” 

“I want to go to the hockey hall of fame,” Michael said. He had the kind of set to his jaw he got just before he started arguing with someone. Oh lord, Eric really didn’t want him to start arguing with someone in the middle of Ransom and Holster’s kitchen. 

“Dude, chill,” Shitty said. “Jack won’t be up for that.” 

“I’ll be recognized,” Jack said, a little glumly. He deserved to be, three time Stanley cup champion that he was. 

“Maybe Michael and I can do that and meet you later?” 

Jack looked at him, quickly, something unreadable in his expression. He glanced at the mixing bowl too. Man must be hungry, though they’d only just had breakfast. Eric wondered if he could rustle up some snacks before they went out. 

“No,” Jack said, slowly. “No, actually. I think, maybe, the hockey hall of fame would be good.” 

There was a silence around the table. 

“You sure, brah? You hate being recognized.” 

“Yeah,” Jack said. “But I’ve not been in years and if I have to sign a few things, it’s not the end of the world, right?” 

“Right,” Ransom agreed. “But it is a Saturday. It’s gonna be busy.” 

“Then we’d better get there early,” Jack said, standing up. “Eric…I’m not saying you have to but…if you wanted, you could stay here.” 

“Oh.” Oh. His day of baking opened back up in front of him. Just him and this lovely kitchen and everything he needed. He could listen to his own music. He could dance. He wanted that. Suddenly he wanted it almost too much. But he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to Michael. 

“Yeah, brah,” Shitty was saying, stepping up to him and pulling him into a one armed hug. “I mean, we’d love to have you with but nobody’s going to say no if you want to stay here and bake up a load of pie instead.” 

“I should come with you. Michael…” 

“I’m 14. You don’t have to babysit me.” He was sulking. 

“I just…” 

“He’ll be fine with us,” Shitty said, squeezing Eric. “Hell, I promise that since he’s here, I’ll even keep all my clothes on.” 

“I should hope you would anyway,” Eric said, but he could feel himself give in to the idea. 

He shouldn’t feel so damn happy at the idea of an afternoon without his kid, but maybe it’d be good for both of them. Maybe Michael could do with an afternoon without him too. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that’s a plan. Now y’all get out of my kitchen. I’ve got pie to make.” 

***

“Holster, can I get you anything? Another slice of pie?” 

“For fuck sake, Bitts, sit down,” Holster said, though he was laughing as he said it. Eric couldn’t help but flush a little, though it was hard to feel cross when everyone was grinning. They were at Ransom and Holster’s so, of course, there’d been alcohol. Shitty had taken it upon himself to recreate tub juice (admittedly on a smaller scale, and no Michael was not allowed to try some). 

Eric hadn’t been this drunk since, well, he couldn’t even remember. But it was the kind of light, caught in the moment feeling he associated with Haus parties. With these people and good times. 

He was happy. 

“Yeah, sit down, Bitts,” Ransom said, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging. Eric fell at an angle that nearly upset Ransom’s chair but Ransom didn’t seem to mind, gripping him around the middle and hugging him. Eric did giggle a bit but also pushed himself free again. 

“No, seriously, y’all?” he said, retreating towards the door. “I don’t mind. Drinks? Food? Y’all want anything at all?” 

“Bits, you are not hosting this party, sit down.” 

“Just trying to be gracious,” Eric said. It was possible that he was swaying in place a little. It was possible that he should have said no a few drinks ago. He’d just been feeling so good, so light and easy and it’d been so long since it’d been light an easy. He probably shouldn’t have, though. He should probably have known that kind of feeling wasn’t for him anymore. Should have quit while he was ahead and…

“Jack,” Holster shouted, and Eric looked over to see Jack coming out of the house. He’d changed into sweat pants and a mismatched t-shirt and was wearing bright yellow sneakers, maybe even the same bright yellow sneakers and he’d worn all those years ago, and Eric was just drunk enough to admit that his heart skipped a beat every time he looked at Jack. 

“Yeah,” Jack said, wandering over. Michael was following him, puppy love in his eyes, and Eric was embarrassed for a second to be this drunk in front of his son. But he looked loose and happy too so maybe it was okay. 

“Pick Bitty up, will you?” 

“What? No.” Eric said, taking a quick step back. “What?” 

“He keeps trying to host,” Holster said from the grill. “Like he didn’t spend the entire day baking us pie and cleaning the damn house. Pick him up so he has to stop.” 

“I didn’t mind,” Eric objected, but Jack had come around the table and was suddenly very close to him and very flushed. Maybe he’d been drinking a little too. He looked lose and easy and happy in a way that Eric hadn’t seen so far this trip. “Don’t you go lifting me, Jack Zimmermann. I’m not 20 anymore.” 

“Bet I could still lift you, though,” Jack said, and there was a speculative glint in his eyes and good lord, Eric might as well just give in to it. 

It wasn’t like he really minded being lifted. It was just...

Jack’s hands on him. There was a second of eye contact, where Eric could have looked away or shook his head or pulled back and Jack would have let him go. Instead he met Jack’s eyes, gave a little nod. And Jack lifted him. 

It’d been too damn long since he’d been so close to another person. Particularly another person as completely beautiful as Jack. Age and injury had done nothing to diminish him and Eric couldn’t help giggling as the lift brought their bodies together, Jack’s arms coming around him to hold them flush against each other, Eric’s arms looping around Jack’s neck. 

It was exhilarating in the way it had always been. The way that was dangerous now. 

But he was drunk and it was only once and it’d been so long. 

“Hey, Bittle.” 

“Hey,” Eric said, leaning into the hold a little. “You put me down, I’ll fetch you some pie.” 

It must have been the right thing to say because everyone laughed, even Jack, which he felt all down through his body. Then Jack moved, shifting his hold and turning Eric so he was carrying him bridal style and Eric would have been mortified, he would, but Jack’s arms were around him and he felt like nothing could touch him again. 

Just imagine if he’d still had this. If they hadn’t walked away from it. 

They’d been such idiots. 

“Okay,” Jack said, too close to him and too fucking beautiful. “I can lift you, I’m not sure I can hold you though.” 

“Don’t strain yourself, hon,” Eric said, wiggling a little. “Just put me down.” 

“Brah,” Shitty said, and when the hell had he got there? His phone was dangling from his fingers. “You know the second you let go of him, he’s going to be washing plates or some shit.” 

“I won’t” Eric said, though he didn’t mean it. He didn’t mind cleaning plates and some of them did and…

“I’ve got a better idea,” Jack said, then sat down on one of the deck chairs. Sat right down with Eric still tight in his arms. 

“Goodness,” Eric squeaked. “Let go.” 

“You really want me to, Bitts?” 

It was pitched low. The others, who were already arguing about who was going to go fetch pie now that Eric was pinned, didn’t hear it. Michael, who had gone to loiter by Ransom, didn’t hear it. It was only for Eric. He paused a second then shook his head. No, he didn’t want Jack to let go. He wanted to stay here in Jack’s lap, drunk and making bad choices. 

“Good,” Jack said, rearranging them. He kept his arms around Eric’s waist, and this was probably going to get uncomfortable for him pretty quickly as, while Eric wasn’t that heavy, he also wasn’t a feather. But, for now, Eric let himself relax back into the hold. 

Let himself have one drunken minute of pretending he didn’t mess this up as much as he messed everything else up. 

***

Eric woke to a pounding head. He rolled over and had to blink a few times to properly focus. To take in the fact that he was apparently on Holster and Ransom’s couch. 

Just how much DID he have to drink the night before? 

He remembered dancing in the kitchen with Shitty. He remembered refusing to chug a beer in front of his son. He remembered Jack Zimmermann’s arms around him, warm and safe, as they sat out under the stars. 

Too much to drink, then. 

He forced himself to sit up with a groan and blinked through the morning light seeping in around the curtains. He wasn’t alone. Michael was curled up in a chair, watching him. 

“Morning sweetie,” he forced himself to say. “You didn’t sleep there, did you?” 

“Holster made me up a bed in the den. Jack and Shitty are in the guest room.” 

“Good,” Eric said, flopping down again. He really did need a glass of water. Some pain killers. His body was making it known that he wasn’t 20 anymore, no matter what Shitty’s early midlife crisis might want him to think. “Give me a second and I’ll make you some breakfast.” 

“I got some cereal,” Michael said. Eric could hear him shifting. “I just…can I ask you something?” 

“Ask away, sweetie.” 

“I just…were you and Jack, you know? A thing?” 

Eric winced. Maybe a little too early in the morning for that question, though he had said ask anything. 

“Yeah. A long time ago.” 

“Like, before dad?” 

Eric nodded. He’d met Steve a few months after Jack had been traded away. When he was working through the gay bars, trying to prove that it was worth it. That being out was worth it. And Steve had been so sweet to him. Things had been so nice. 

“You shouldn’t tell anyone about it, Michael. Okay? Jack’s very private. I know he came out, but that’s no reason to spread it around.” 

Michael shrugged. “Like anyone would care.” Eric glanced over. Michael obviously cared. Or, at least, he was giving it some serious thought. His forehead was wrinkled with it. “Why did you break up?” 

“Sweetie, I love you, but there are some things I won’t talk to you about when I’m hung over and that’s one of them.” 

Michael frowned a little but seemed to give it up. He stood up instead and left the room which gave Eric a chance to survey himself. He didn’t feel like he was missing time. Other than the head and the stomach, he felt okay. This wasn’t even the worst hangover he’d ever had. 

It was the first time he’d been drunk in as long as he could remember. 

He’d always been terrible at hiding when he was drunk. College had been easier because Kegsters were a law unto themselves. It didn’t matter if he was having a breakdown. As long as he had it to music in the middle of the dance floor everyone would be okay. Everyone was overly emotional there. 

Sitting on Jack had probably been a mistake. A stupid mistake that his stupid heart couldn’t help but make. But they were both adults and today was a new day. 

Things would be better. 

There was another noise and he looked up. Michael coming back in with a plate and a drink. He wondered if, if he asked nicely, Michael would bring him one. 

Only Michael didn’t go back to his chair, he came across the floor instead. Knelt down by Eric and somehow it made him look younger, more vulnerable. More like the lost 8 year old Eric had vowed to love all those years ago. 

“I made you toast.” 

“Thank you, sweetie,” Eric said, pushing himself to sit up again. There were two slices of white with butter. A couple of aspirin on the side of the plate. Michael set it and the glass of water on the side table and Eric couldn’t help but reach over and hug him. He loved this kid so much. 

He didn’t push his luck by hugging for too long, let Michael retreat again, but it was so much. 

Maybe he’d been right to come on this road trip. 

Michael turned the TV on and settled in. Eric watched him for a second then turned to his toast and water. For the first time in a long time, he felt lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you may now be aware, I have provided Ransom with a wheelchair and not told you why. One of the things I love about fanfiction is that you can just do shit like that and, generally, people are cool with it. Why is he in a chair? You tell me. I'm not the boss of you. He's still just as Ransom as he ever was. Why do you even care. 
> 
> But... maybe I have a headcanon. 
> 
> So, my theory is that, oh, in a few years time, Ransom and Holster are living in different cities. He's finished his training to be a doctor. Holster is still trying to work out what consulting actually is. Rans is in a car accident. He wasn't at fault, but was exhausted behind the wheel. When Holster hears, he drops his job and everything to rush to Ransom's side and then, just, kind of moves in. And when it becomes clear that the chair is going to be a part of Ransom's life going forward, Holster's just there like, bro, we've got this. No fuss or drama, just doing his bro a solid. Forever. He finds a job in Toronto and they finally manage to convinve Ransom's worried family that they're fine, thanks. And they are fine. 
> 
> Just bros, casually moving in together. And things that it'd hurt Ransom's pride to accept help with from other people, he can ask Holser for help with because Holster's already seem him at basically his worst so. And Holster just acnowledges that the world is now even more biased against Ransom and does what he can to help. 
> 
> AND DO THEY FIND LOVE TOGETHER? I think that's for you to decide (spoilers, yes. They totally do. Holster just looks around one day and Rans is sat there and he realises he will never have a relaitonship in his life that means more to him than this one and just kisses Rans like he should have been doing for years. But that's not yet. That's still to come for them). 
> 
> So, I hope that answers all your questions. Next update in a week.


	3. Chowder and Farmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you say "make Jack Zimmermann hold a baby"? Because I think that's what I heard you say.

“So, apparently I phoned Lardo last night.” 

“Who’s that?” Michael asked.

Michael and Shitty had taken the back seat this time. Shitty to sprawl, Michael to sit and stare at his phone and not talk. Eric could hardly blame him for that, and they had done a lot of socializing between them over the last few days. Eric glanced over to look at Shitty now but he was sprawled back, eyes closed, almost as if he hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Ex-wife.” 

“Sucks,” Michael said. Eric couldn’t help but hum in agreement. It had and it did and though he and Shitty had come to divorce under very different circumstances, the suckage of it was universal. 

“Did she reply?” Jack asked. 

“Got a text just now,” Shitty said with a shrug. His shoulders were a little tense though so it maybe wasn’t a good thing. “She says we can visit. So, that’s a thing.” 

“I presumed she wouldn’t even be on the list because… well…” 

“Yeah, but they came to visit you.” 

“Not the same,” Eric said, frowning at Michael. “Jack and I weren’t married.” Shitty snorted but he chose to ignore that. He also pointedly didn’t notice the way Jack’s hand tightened on the wheel. “She’s really okay with it?” 

“Seems so? Says we should call her and maybe put her last? Like, give her some time to prep or something?” 

“That seems fair,” Eric said. He turned to try to catch Shitty’s eye but his eyes were still closed, the cheat. Eric would have to corner him later if he wanted to find out exactly what was going on. He knew they divorced, of course. They’d only managed a little over a year to Eric’s three. He’d seen Lardo a handful of times since but she’d never wanted to talk about it and he didn’t exactly want to talk about Steve either so…

They were all disasters at this. 

“Anyway,” he said, mentally shaking himself. “Where are we going?” 

“Haven’t decided yet, Brah,” Shitty said, finally cracking an eye open. “We’re going to get into America again and then see where fate takes us.” 

“Seriously?” Eric said, raising an eyebrow in Jack’s direction. 

“He’s making me roll a die.” 

“That doesn’t seem very fuel efficient. You know, if y’all gave me a list of everyone we’re going to visit I could come up with a route that’d be a lot more efficient.” 

“That’s what I said,” Jack said, and he was smiling now. A soft private smile that made Eric feel warm inside. “Apparently that’s cheating?” 

“We are free and easy souls,” Shitty interrupted. “And we’re not having a schedule.” 

“I just think it’d make more sense,” Jack grumbled. But it was obviously a well worn argument so Eric let it drop. 

“Want me to roll the die, then?” 

“Sure,” Shitty said, kicking his feet into the back of Eric’s chair. List’s in the glove box, right Jack?” 

Eric bent over to retrieve it. Even if he couldn’t recognize the handwriting, Eric would have known that it was Shitty’s work because it was scrawled on the back of a receipt. He and Ransom and Holster were crossed off. That left Johnson, Nursey and Dex, Farmer and Chowder, and Lardo. 

He commandeered Jack’s phone and found a dice app on the home screen. Very Jack. He rolled it, glanced around, and rolled again. No need to tell Shitty it had landed on Lardo. The second roll was much more appropriate. 

“We’re going to see Chowder.” 

***

Chowder and Farmer had the kind of house Eric had dreamed of when he was a kid. Or, honestly, when he let himself dream now. It was a rambling thing that looked like it had been added on to over generations and it was overflowing with items and love and kids and it made something in Eric’s heart clench just to be there. 

Though that could also honestly be that within five minutes of walking through the door, he had an armful of baby. 

Everyone around him seemed to be rushing around, he stepped back and cradled the baby in his arms. It was so small and dressed in a shark onesie and it was looking up at him with big, dark eyes. Watching him with the kind of intensity that only babies brought. 

“Hey,” he said, softly, squeezing it a little. “Aren’t you the cutest?” 

The baby smiled at him, showing its gums. Eric couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Oh,” Chowder interrupted. “Do you want me to take her? I didn’t mean to abandon a baby on you, I just didn’t want Shitty to crush her.” 

“It’s no problem,” Eric said, tightening his arms a little. “She’s a doll. What did you say her name was?” 

“Charlotte,” Chowder said, flushing with obvious pride. “She’s six months. Cameron’s around here, he’s three. Connor’s five and Carly’s seven.” 

“That’s a lot of kids,” Eric said softly, trying to bite back on the stirrings of wistfulness. He had a perfectly lovely family. Small but perfectly formed. There was no needs to feel jealous of Chowder and his small army of babies. But baby Charlotte chose that moment to reach forward and grab hold of his ear, filling his nose with the smell of baby powder and he just…

He’d talked to Steve about a baby. An infant. But Steve hadn’t wanted the responsibility and the sleepless nights and it wasn’t like Eric didn’t love Michael. He loved him so much. But he’d wanted... 

There was no chance of it now, of course. They’d never let him adopt a baby alone. Maybe not at all with his financial situation. 

Charlotte giggled and tugged at his ear. 

“Come on, poppet,” he said, kissing her soft cheek. Chowder smiled at him, and maybe Eric had looked a little too wistful because Chowder looked just a little too understanding as he lead Eric through into the crowded sitting room. Jack, Shitty and Michael were already sat on the couch so Eric didn’t feel too bad about two of the Chow kids being thrown out of a plush armchair for him to sit, Charlotte still in his arms. He’d barely got settled before one of the kids came back. 

“Who are you?” he asked. 

“Connor, don’t be so rude,” Caitlyn shouted from the kitchen. 

“Sorry, Mom.” But he didn’t take his eyes of Eric so Eric smiled at him. 

“I’m Eric. I went to college with your dad. And your mom, of course, but I was on the hockey team with your dad.” 

Connor nodded as though that was important information, then turned his eyes to the baby in Eric’s lap, reaching down to grab her chubby fingers and squeeze. She smiled for him. 

Eric wondered if the divorce would have been easier on Michael if he’d had a brother or a sister. 

“Nice place you’ve got,” Shitty was saying, and he managed to make it sound genuine though this place was probably very different from what he was used to. “I hope we’re not intruding or anything?” 

“No, never,” Chowder enthused, flopping on the floor and pulling a child into his lap. “We love hearing from people. It’s kind of hard to keep in touch, you know, so it’s great when others reach out.” 

“Yep,” Caitlyn said, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of coffee mugs. “I keep meaning to e-mail or phone people but there’s so much to do.” 

“I can imagine,” Jack said, a little dryly. He had the oldest girl, Carly, leaning into one side and Michael leaning against his other. He didn’t look uncomfortable, though. Far from it. It was enough to make Eric’s heart ache. “You’re teachers, right?” 

“Yep,” Chowder grinned. “It’s great, seeing all those kids growing up and doing their best. We love it.” 

“Time consuming, though,” Caitlyn said. She paused by Eric, holding the tray of coffee. “Want to swap the baby for a drink?” 

He looked down. Charlotte gazed up at him. “Maybe later?” Caitlyn smiled and took the tray away. 

“So,” Chowder said. “What are you guys doing here?” 

This set Shitty off on his spiel about reconnecting and finding himself or whatever it was he was doing and left Eric holding the baby. He couldn’t help but make faces at her, charmed by the way she giggled when he did. She was such a sweetheart, it was a shock that everyone who came into the house didn’t fall right for her. But, then, he’d always loved babies. 

He only looked back up when he felt the weight of someone sitting down on the chair arm. 

Jack. Jack looking down at him with the baby and smiling in a way that Eric didn’t want to think about too closely. Jack, the closest he’d been since they were drunk and in Ransom and Holster’s yard, sharing whispered conversation as the others drank. 

He adjusted the baby a little, tucking her into his chest. She pushed away, apparently this wasn’t hug time. 

“I’ve got it,” Shitty said, loud enough to drag Eric’s attention back to the conversation. “Brah, this is awesome. We’ll babysit for you!” 

“What?” Chowder asked, looking a little nervous. 

“You were just saying how busy you are, when was the last time you took your wonderful woman on a date? And there’s three of us here, I’m sure we can handle four kids between us.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Actually,” Jack said, “that’s not a bad plan, apart from Shitty being involved in it.” 

“Brah!” 

“Shitts, I love you man but you have no idea about kids.” 

“Yeah,” he admitted with a shrug, like it wasn’t common knowledge. Towards the end of he and Lardo’s marriage, it was maybe the one thing the two of them had still agreed on. “But you’ll be here to help?” 

“So that’s what we’re going to do,” Jack said, and there was his captain voice. He had a play. “Me and Bittle will stay here with the kids. Chris and Caitlyn, you’re going on a date. Shitty, you’re going to take Michael and explore the city.” 

“Only if you want, sugar,” Eric interrupted, leaning forward to meet Michael’s eye. 

“Sure,” he said, scuffing his sneakers. “I mean, hanging out with Shitty’s better than hanging out with a bunch of kids. No offense.” 

“Well, maybe we don’t want to hang out with you either,” Carly grumbled, flopping on the couch beside him. She looked just like her mother. Chowder must spoil her rotten. 

“But…” Chowder interrupted. “I mean, it’s not that we don’t want to. It’s just you came all this way to see us. We can’t abandon our kids on you. That’s not fair! We can go somewhere where everyone can go together and…” 

“And y’all will run around after the kids and not have a moment’s peace. Just take the gift, honey. We can all get breakfast or something tomorrow before we head out. But you should take advantage. Have a day. I know how hard it can be to find time just to be together.” 

Harder if your husband’s secretly screwing someone else. Lucky for Caitlyn that Chris would never do such a thing. 

“Well…” 

“Chris, just say yes,” Caitlyn said, grinning. “Its forever since we had time alone together.” 

“I…if you’re sure?” Chowder said, grinning. “That would be just so very awesome. Thanks so much, guys!” 

***

Eric let himself collapse back onto the picnic blanket. After a second, Carly collapsed next to him, her panting matching his. It’d been a while since he’d moved so much. Or at least run so much. But it took quite a lot of effort to look after four children. Particularly four children who came with the energy, determination, and joy of Chris and Caitlyn Chow. 

He would be lying if he said he didn’t love every second of it. 

“Uncle Eric,” Carly said. “I’m very tired.” 

“Good, baby girl,” Eric replied, grinning up at the sky. “That was my secret evil plan all along.” 

She giggled but apparently she wasn’t feeling quite as tired as all that because a second later she was pushing off and running away again. Eric didn’t quite have the energy to join her.

The park had been a good idea. Some food and plenty of sun screen and they were set until the early evening, at least. And then by the time they managed to make their way home it’d be bedtime. It reminded him of when they’d first adopted Michael. He’d spent a lot of time in the parks then, watching his son. Michael had been so unsure of him at first. It’d taken months for him to really start believing Eric would be there when he looked back to find him. And then there was the divorce. 

Eric shook his head. There was no point thinking about that now. 

He rolled over just in time to see Jack headed back across the grass, Charlotte and Cameron in his arms. Charlotte was clearly asleep and Cameron was well on his way, eyelids drooping even as he fought valiantly to stay awake. 

How many times his Eric dreamt about something just like this? Jack with arms full of babies? Of course, in his dreams, they’d been theirs. 

“Sleep, little one,” Jack was whispering as he stepped up to the blanket. 

“Here.” Eric stood. “Let me take one.” 

Jack hesitated, then turned so Eric could pick Charlotte out of his arms. She stirred a little at the transfer but soon settled and it was easier for them to both sit down, sharing child holding duty. Eric had a quick scan and spotted Connor and Carly playing together on the monkey bars. 

Good. A few moments quiet. 

Only, of course, not a few quiet moments alone. A few quiet moments with Jack. Jack who was sat there with a baby quietly drowsing in his arms. Jack who looked like he’d been born to this. Jack who was just as everything as he’d ever been. 

Jack who was incredibly dangerous. Eric knew how this went. Knew how easily his heart had always flung itself at this boy’s feet and how badly it always turned out. Even if Jack was out now. Even if hockey was over for him. He still wasn’t for Eric and daydreams felt harmless but they could still cut. 

“Hey,” Jack said, softly. “Did you ever think about having more children? I mean…with Steve?” 

“No. Not with Steve,” Eric said, blushing a little. “He didn’t want them, you know? Doesn’t want them. I hear from him maybe twice a year and he pays Michael’s school fees but other than that…I think he thought I was trying to trap him with Michael. When Michael started opening up, that’s when things started going bad between us.” 

He looked up to see Jack frowning, gently stroking Cameron’s hair. Eric hadn’t talked about any of this in so long. It felt right now, though. To talk about it with Jack. 

At least he knew Jack would listen. 

“Michael’s a good kid,” was the eventual, measured response. 

“Well, you’ve never been on the end of one of his tantrums.” 

“No,” Jack agreed. Eric was probably projecting the slightly wistful tone of that no. “What about now? Would you have more?” 

“On my own?” Eric said with a little laugh. “No. They wouldn’t let me. And, I mean, you’ve seen how I live, Jack. I keep me and Michael ticking over but I couldn’t afford another child. It’s only practical.” 

“But do you want them?” 

With all his heart. He couldn’t say that, though. Not to Jack. Instead he lent down and pressed his nose into Charlotte’s hair. She was so real in his arms. So precious. He’d have loved to have a baby. A child who he could be there for - who’s first steps and first words would be for him. 

“I always thought we’d have this,” Jack said. His voice was so soft that Eric almost missed it, the words so unexpected that, for a second, he was sure he’d misheard. 

“This?” 

“Kids,” Jack said, a little louder. “I used to think about it. When hockey was over. Some kids. A house. A dog.” 

“I thought about it too,” Eric admitted. He looked out at the older children, playing on the swings now. “Just, not after hockey.” 

“No,” Jack agreed, and they let the silence fall again.

***

Eric was beginning to re-think the wanting a baby thing. 

Charlotte would not stop screaming. She had been fed, burped, changed, carried, set down, changed again, and she was still howling. Still wailing as though all the woes of the world had come to rest at her door. Her tiny face was screwed up and her tiny fists were beating at Eric’s shoulder and he’d have set her down but he knew that if he did she’d only carry on wailing, flailing her little limbs until he picked her up again. 

“Oh sweet girl,” he whispered, brushing a kiss across her forehead. “The world’s not ending. There are worse things than this.” 

“If you think about it from her perspective, there probably aren’t.” 

Eric spun to see Jack stood in the doorway. He looked tired, but he was still smiling despite the wailing of their littlest charge. He’d also lost his shoes, socks and Jacket somewhere and was looking sinful in a slightly too tight t-shirt and rumpled jeans. 

Eric stopped that train of thought before it even got started and turned his attention back to Charlotte’s screaming face. 

“I mean,” Jack said, coming further into the room. “From her perspective, this is probably literally the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. She’s not got that wide a pool of experience.” 

“I guess,” Eric said, letting himself smile a little. “I just feel so useless. Maybe we should phone Chowder…” 

“They’ll be back soon anyway,” Jack said, stepping in. He opened his arms and Eric found himself still reluctant to let go. Even though she was trying to strangle him with his t-shirt. But Jack put his hands on her and Eric let her go. 

Apparently, the change of person was enough for a second of contemplating, when the wailing faded to hiccupping sobs, and then it was full on screaming again. 

“Hey,” Jack whispered, and then he started bobbing a little. “Hey, little girl. It’s okay.” 

It looked ridiculous. And adorable. Eric had to look away so he made his way to the kitchen. He’d had grand visions of making a pie and tidying before Chowder and Farmer got back but it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Instead he threw on the coffee maker. It was probably a little late to be indulging but he was going to need the energy if Charlotte didn’t go down soon. 

“DADDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.” 

Eric sighed. He turned and made his way back through the living room. Jack was still doing his strange walking/rocking thing and, maybe Eric was delusional but, Charlotte did seem to be getting quieter. 

He made his way up the stairs. 

Carly was perched on the top step, plush shark clutched to her chest. She looked at him like he’d betrayed her as he climbed and then set himself down on the step below her. 

“I don’t want you, I want my daddy.” 

“I know, sugarplum,” Eric said, turning so his body was angled towards her. “You just want to see him?” 

“And Mommy.” 

“And Mommy,” he agreed. “You know, if you go jump in bed, they’ll be home when you wake up.” 

“But I want them now,” Carly pouted. “Can’t I wait downstairs with you?” 

“No, sweetie. You need to be in bed. Think how happy they’ll be when they come home and you’re all happy and asleep.” 

“But I want to see them,” Carly said, eyes brimming up and goodness, Eric couldn’t deal with another one crying. 

A door down the hallway cracked and Eric looked up to see Connor watching him. 

At least Cameron was asleep. 

“Okay,” Eric said, standing. “You’re not staying up too long but I think that what we all need right now is a nice big glass of warm milk. So if I let you come downstairs with me, you can have some warm milk then head back to bed. Agreed?” 

“And some cookies?”

“One cookie.” 

Carly considered this for a second, then nodded. She stood up and started making her way down the stairs, the shark still clutched to her chest. Eric turned back to the door and held out his hand for Connor who came skidding out and grabbed on. 

He took a deep breath then headed down. A cup of warm milk, that was all. They were upset that mom and dad weren’t here. They were kids. It was good that they had those kind of attachments. 

When they passed through the living room, Charlotte was definitely flagging. Her sobs were more hiccups now and her tiny fists were barely punching at all. Eric exchanged a smile with Jack before heading through to the kitchen. 

Carly had already situated herself at the table, two cups in front of her. When she saw Connor trailing along she sighed in an endearingly dramatic way and went back for another. Eric hid his smile and headed for the fridge. There was plenty of milk and he set about heating some up on the stove. He even dove into the cupboards and managed to find some cinnamon powder to sprinkle in, aware of two sharp pairs of eyes on him. 

It was familiar. 

Mama had always made him hot milk when he couldn’t sleep. He had fond memories of late nights in his kitchen in Georgia, wrapped up in Mama’s arms with a mug of hot milk. It hadn’t been a big step to make it for Michael. He hadn’t slept much when he came to them. He was old enough to understand that Mom and Dad were gone forever, but not really old enough to understand what that meant in any meaningful way other than that he’d been abandoned. He’d sleep fitfully and wake up crying and Eric felt like he’d spent a year or so sleeping with one ear open. 

At first, Michael had just cried to himself in his room. Whenever Eric heard, he went to him. Michael never seemed to want touch in those darker moments, but he’d accept hot milk and cookies. 

After a while, Michael had started creeping into their room on bad nights. Started shaking Eric awake and asking for milk. Accepting it. Accepting a hug and a kiss to the forehead and a promise that Eric would always be there for him. 

For a second, Eric acutely missed his son. Wished he was here already, though he wasn’t likely to accept warm milk and a hug now. 

Soon. They’d be home soon. 

He poured out the milk and plated up cookies. Watched in satisfaction as eyelids drooped. Connor didn’t even finish half his cup before Eric was scooping him up and carrying him up to bed and when he came back Carly was rubbing at her eyelids. 

“I want my Daddy,” she said, pitifully, sinking further into her chair, and Eric’s heart just about melted. 

“I know, sweetie. Come on, let’s get you in bed.” 

She didn’t fight this time. Seven was a little old to carry but Eric managed it. Soon she’d be too big. He wondered if Chowder savoured this properly. Thought about the time soon when he’d put her down and never pick her up again. 

Eric had never carried Michael in his arms like this. 

Her room was shark themed and when she slid he beneath her shark blankets and turned on the shark nightlight she was already gone. He left the door ajar and crept back downstairs. 

It was quiet. 

Jack was collapsed back on the couch, Charlotte sleeping on his chest. He looked tired but triumphant and Eric wasn’t sure what to do with that other than smile back when Jack smiled at him. 

“Are the others down?” Jack whispered. Eric just nodded, unwilling to disturb Charlotte. He made his way to the couch and slid down next to Jack, letting their sides press together. 

“Still want babies, Mr Zimmermann, after having this all day?” 

“Yes.” Not a second’s hesitation. It made Eric’s heart flutter. “I mean, it’s worth it, right?” 

“Yes.” Eric found the word just as easily as Jack had. He knew there were problems with Michael, between himself and Michael, but he could never regret opening his door to him. If someone told him he could go back and just not, he’d laugh them out of his house. 

Jack bumped against him. It almost felt like an invitation to lean closer so after a second, Eric did, laying his head on Jack’s shoulder. 

He let his eyes close. 

This could have been them. Could have been their life. If Eric hadn’t been so impatient to do everything straight away. If Jack hadn’t been so fixated on hockey. If only they’d tried a little harder. Held on a little tighter. 

If wishes were horses…

Eric forced himself to sit up. There was no good in wallowing. Those times were gone. 

He turned to face Jack, to offer him the coffee cooling in the coffee maker, or warm milk, or anything. Jack was staring at him, eyes dark. Face intent. It was so familiar, that expression. It made Eric’s stomach tighten, his tongue move to wet his lips. 

He wasn’t sure who moved to start the kiss. It was gentle. Exploratory. Like those others all those years ago in Jack’s dorm room. 

A new first time. 

The kiss broke. Eric’s hand lifted to touch his lips. 

“Bitty…” 

The door slammed. 

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” 

“Shitty, keep it down! My babies are probably asleep.” 

“But Caitlyn, I want to hug them.” 

“Oh honey…” 

“Were they like this in college?” 

“DADDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!” 

And, in Jack’s arms, Charlotte began to scream. 

***

Eric let himself slump a little when the motel door shut behind him. It wasn’t exactly private and it definitely wasn’t luxurious but, for now, it was a moment’s calm. A moment away from the way Jack had been looking at him, eyes catching on him like they were young again and in love and…

It was too much. It was too fast. He’d stopped feeling like this about Jack years ago. He couldn’t do this again. 

Only when Jack smiled at him, it was hard to remember that their being together wasn’t a good idea. 

Michael had already fallen onto one of the other beds, feet up on the blankets. He looked tired, though he’d get to sleep in the car tomorrow. Whoever’s name came out, it was going to be at least a couple of days drive away. 

A couple of days stuck in a car with Jack Zimmermann. Heaven preserve him. 

Eric took off his shoes and made his way to the bed. He peeled back the sheets and had a look but it seemed clean enough. They’d be up again soon enough anyway for breakfast and saying goodbye. Or until next time. He hadn’t thought about that aspect of it when this thing started, but it didn’t hurt to say goodbye like it used to. It felt more like a promise to do this again. 

He wasn’t sure how he was going to take saying goodbye to Jack. 

Best not to think about it. 

“Michael,” he said instead, moving over to the other bed. “Up, sweetie. You’ll regret it in the morning if you sleep in your clothes.” 

There was a moan and a glare but Michael rolled back out of bed. He yawned and stretched. “Shitty wear you out, hon?” 

“Yeah,” Michael grumbled. “I thought, like, old people were meant to slow down?” 

“He’s not that old.” 

“Whatever.” 

“But you had fun?” 

A pause. “Yeah. You know, yeah. I had a lot of fun today.” He said it hesitantly. Like he wasn’t sure. Like it’d been so long since he really had fun that he forgot what it felt like. It was enough to break Eric’s heart. 

“I’m glad, sweetie.” 

“Me too. But…Eric?” 

“Yeah, honey?” 

“Next time, wherever it is, it’d maybe be nice to do something with you too?” 

Eric’s heart grew three sizes. 

“Of course, sweetie. Whatever you like.” 

“Cool.” Michael smiled. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Night, dad.” 

There was a second where the word hung between then. Dad. Then he was blushing and shuffling himself away into the bathroom and Eric was left with a small smile and a lot of hope.


	4. Johnson

“Man, I hope Johnson doesn’t mind us using his kitchen. I could kill for a real meal right now, brah.” 

Eric chuckled, surveying the selection on the gas station shelves. It wasn’t exactly inspiring, he could agree with that. “I thought we were eating like a roadie.” 

“Roadies only lasted a few days, man. And we’re not in college anymore.” 

“Why, Mr Knight, are you admitting that we’ve grown up?” 

Eric had selected a bag of vegetable chips as probably the least unhealthy thing on the rack when he realised Shitty hadn’t replied. He looked over to find him holding on to a bag of cheetoes, staring at the shelves. “Hon, if you really don’t want to eat gas station food we can probably find a diner or something but I thought you wanted to hit Johnson’s before it got dark?” 

“Do you really think I don’t get that we’ve grown up?” 

“Shitty?” 

“I mean, I fucking know we have, Bitts. I’m not an idiot.” 

“I never said you were. But honey, you’re the one dragging us on this road trip to recapture our glory days.” 

Shitty blinked a few times, then nodded. He put the cheetoes back. Then picked them up again. Sighed. 

“I just… you ever wonder where you went wrong, bro?” 

“You’re asking me this?” Eric said with a small laugh. 

“Yeah. I just… Everything was going really good for me for a while. Then everything wasn’t. And I don’t know how I stepped over that line. I don’t know how I went from things being good to things not being good and I’m trying to work it out and I think the last time things were really amazing was when we were all together so…” 

“Oh Shitty,” Eric sighed. He stepped closer, leant into Shitty’s side. Shitty accepted the hug, grabbing Eric and squeezing him just a little too tight. 

“Sorry,” Shitty said. “I…look, let’s get some snacks and go. Jack and Michael are waiting.” 

“Shitty, it’s okay for you to need help too.” 

“I know, brah. Come on.” He straightened up, pulling out of the hug. “We’d better get back on the road. But…thanks.” 

“Any time.” 

***

Johnson did have a kitchen they could use. He lived in a neat but non-descript house in a neat but non-descript neighbourhood. There were photos on the wall of graduation and a wedding with a woman who was neither ugly nor beautiful and of a child who was cute but unremarkable. 

Eric didn’t know what else he’d expected. 

“My wife’s at her sisters,” Johnson said with an easy smile. “When I told her you were coming she said she’d get out of our hair for a few days. She’s not really relevant to the narrative, after all, so we wouldn’t want to waste time developing her character. Do you guys want to stay here? I have the right number of guest rooms.” 

“Sure,” Eric said, setting down the bag of groceries Shitty had insisted they buy on the way over. “If that’s okay with you.” 

“Sounds good,” Shitty said. “Want me to grab our stuff from the car?” 

“I’ll help,” Johnson said, heading after him. 

That left Eric, Jack and Michael. 

“Goodness,” Eric said, looking around the kitchen. “I wonder where Johnson keeps his pans? I hope he doesn’t mind us just barging in here like this.” 

“He seemed fine, Eric,” Michael said, heading for the bags himself. “Do you need any help?” 

Eric couldn’t remember the last time Michael had offered to help him in the kitchen, but he bit his lip and nodded. Best not to make a big deal out of it. “There are things in there for a salad. I’m just going to do some eggs and tomatoes, I think.” 

“Sounds good,” Jack said, moving to stand next to Michael. “Want me to chop the tomatoes for you?” 

“Please,” Eric said. He turned to dig out a pan and when he turned back, Jack and Michael were both absorbed in their tasks. As he watched out of the corner of his eyes, Jack gently corrected Michael’s chopping and Michael, bless his heart, wrinkled his forehead and listened. 

This trip had been the right thing to do. 

He dug a bowl out of the cupboard and then Jack was there at his elbow with the carton of eggs and the tomatoes. For a second, Eric thought he was going to lean in for a kiss, like they used to. But he smiled and turned and went back to Michael. 

Eric tried not to be disappointed. 

By the time he was plating up, Johnson and Shitty had come back. 

“Brah,” Shitty said, coming up behind him and pulling him into a rough hug. “I fucking love you.” 

Eric laughed, shoving him away. “Go sit yourself down, Mr Knight. Don’t you make me drop these.” 

Dinner passed quickly and quietly. The table was small enough that Jack had to sit close. Close enough for his leg to press against Eric’s under the table. Close enough that he was constantly in Eric’s space in a way that made Eric’s heart flutter. 

In the two day drive down, Jack hadn’t done anything more than smile at him. And maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he hadn’t meant the kiss to mean anything. And that would be fine. Eric would be better not getting involved with him anyway. He had a son and a million responsibilities and how would anything between himself and Jack work now? And it couldn’t be casual. Jack had never been casual. 

He was probably reading too much into it. It was nothing. 

“So,” Jack said, as Eric finished his salad. “I was thinking… maybe we could go skating today?” 

Eric couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Honestly, he was surprised it’d taken them so long for Jack to nudge them towards the ice. 

“Excellent idea,” Johnson said. “The rink’s closed but I’ve got a friend with a key, they’ll open up for you.” 

“Oh, we wouldn’t want anyone to go to any trouble,” Eric said, but Johnson was already shaking his head. 

“It’s no trouble, Bitts. He’ll open up and leave you alone for a few hours. He’s cool. And me and Shitty can go hang out. I told you about that new microbrewery, right?” 

“Right,” Shitty said, brightening up. “Sounds swawesome, man.” 

“I’m no…Johnson, we came here to visit you. It’s not fair that we go skating and leave you here.” 

“No, it’s fine,” Johnson said. “I get it. I’m not even really a side character in this story, we don’t want to waste time developing me. I’m just here to facilitate your plot progression. It’s totally cool that you, Jack and Michael want to spend the day together.” 

Eric felt the tingling of a headache. He’d forgotten how strange it was, interacting with Johnson. 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Jack said. He didn’t sound sure but who would be when faced with that. 

“Absolutely.” Johnson grinned. “I’ll phone my guy now.”

***

Skating felt like coming home in a way that nothing had in a long time. 

The moment Eric’s blades touched the ice, something cleared inside him. The pressing weight lifted from his shoulders and as he pushed off, he left it all behind. Something he didn’t even really need to think about because, for now, there was ice under his blades and what else could he need. 

He’d done two laps before Jack and Michael even got on the ice. He wasn’t as fast as he had been but his muscles still remembered the movements. 

“Looking good, Bittle,” Jack yelled as he came onto the ice. Eric turned to grin at him. Jack was beaming back like there was nothing he wanted to see more than Eric. 

It was ridiculously flattering. 

“Come on,” Michael said, heading for centre ice. “Let’s play.” 

Eric didn’t need to ask what. While he’d been getting his legs under him, Jack had retrieved a bucket of pucks and a few sticks. They didn’t look up to much but they’d do for a few casual games. He skated over to retrieve one as Jack and Michael manoeuvred a net into position. 

The stick felt good in his hands. Familiar. He wished he’d never given up ice skating, though at the same time he didn’t see a way he could have carried it on. He’d looked a little into rec leagues when he’d moved to Providence. But living with Jack had been a distraction in its own right and, with him being away to play so often, Eric didn’t want to waste any of the time they could scrape together with his own hockey. 

And then there’d been Steve and Michael and skating had seemed like something that happened to someone else. 

He skated out to centre ice where Jack had left the bucket of pucks and claimed one. He sent it skidding up the ice and chased after it, bringing it back under control and moving it over towards the net. Jack saw him coming and stepped back, leaving an empty net for Eric to chip the puck into. Grinning at him when he did. 

“Still in practice, Bittle?” 

“I wish,” Eric said, coming to a stop by Jack. “Ready to play a little?” 

Jack snorted because when wasn’t he ready to play a little? His professional game may be over but you’d never get him off the ice for good. “You and Michael against me?” 

“Sure,” Eric grinned. Michael approached them and Eric nodded to him, retrieving the puck from the net and passing it to him. “If you think you’re up to the challenge?” 

“I think I’ll manage,” Jack said, eyes sparkling. 

“We’ll see.” 

Jack scored a few easy goals before Eric and Michael started making connections on the ice. But once they did, things were suddenly a lot more even than Eric would have imagined they’d be. There was still a kind of pure joy to finding the net. To looking across the ice and having someone send him a puck. They were all giggling in no time. Eric let Jack check him gently into the boards. Michael hugged Eric when they pulled ahead. 

Eventually they called it quits when they were even. Practicing some shots instead, Jack gently coaching Michael as Eric made slow loops. 

When Jack headed over to the side for a drink, Eric drifted towards him. 

“Have you thought about this?” he asked. “Coaching?” 

Jack turned to look at him. He looked happy. Settled. Eric couldn’t help but wonder how often Jack got out onto the ice these days. Not often enough, probably. 

“I’ve thought about it,” Jack admitted. “A few teams have approached me. I’m thinking about it.” 

“Coaching the NHL?” 

“It’s what I’m expected to do,” Jack said with a shrug. 

“But is it what you want?” 

Jack looked past Eric and Eric couldn’t help but glance over to where Michael was playing with the puck. Knocking it gently around. 

“I’m looking at my options.” 

Eric smiled. 

“Come on.” He pushed off the boards. “Think we can still play together?” 

“Michael isn’t going to know what’s hit him.” 

***

“Oh my god, dad. You’re disgusting.” 

Eric’s heart was going to burst. Not only was Michael calling him Dad, he was laughing. They were curled up together on Johnson’s, frankly extravagantly large, couch. Jack’s arm was slung along the back and Eric was… maybe a little closer than he should be. He’d started a little way away but the warmth of Jack’s side had been too tempting. He’d shifted a little closer and a little closer and he wasn’t quite leaning but it was close. 

“What? I just think Mashkov’s still cute.” 

“Want me to hook you up, Bittle? He always had a thing for your pies.” 

“Please. If I want to talk to Tater, I’m sure I can do it myself.” Eric sniffed. “We didn’t stop talking just because you moved away.” 

“You didn’t?” Jack seemed genuinely intrigued. 

“Not entirely. I mean, we weren’t hanging out every night and braiding each other’s hair but I saw him maybe three or four times in that first year. He sends me a text every six months or so and I send him a pie.” 

Jack snorted. “I should have known it’d be about pie.” 

“Oh hush your mouth, Mr Zimmermann. Aren’t we watching this game?” 

“It’s 4-0 to the Falconers, the Flyers aren’t coming back from that,” Michael said. “Just…if you know Mashkov, why haven’t you introduced me to him?” 

Eric frowned. It was honestly something he’d never really thought about. Tater belonged to the part of his life that had hockey in it. That had Jack and college and none of that seemed to connect to the part of his life that had Steve and Michael in it. 

“I can introduce you next time. Your dad just…” Eric trailed off. Steve had never been interested in hockey. He didn’t mind Eric having the game on but he hadn’t engaged. Hadn’t wanted to meet any of the hockey players Eric knew. And, honestly, that’d been a relief at first. To have one thing in his life that Jack Zimmermann hadn’t touched. 

“Whatever,” Michael said, stretching out and yawning. His feet dug under Eric’s thighs when he did and it was oddly comfortable. “I’m going to go crash out. Are you two waiting up for Shitty and Johnson? 

“For a little while, at least,” Jack said, his hand drifting over to rest on Eric’s knee and Eric found his breath catching in his throat. Found himself nodding. Yes, they’d wait up a little while. If that was okay. 

Then Michael was rolling his eyes and leaving and they were alone together. 

Jack’s hand was still on his knee. 

Eric waited for a second. Jack didn’t move his hand. Instead, he slid it up. Let his long fingers come to rest on Eric’s thigh. Squeezed gently. 

It was a familiar move. All these years and some things didn’t change. He knew just what would happen if he turned towards Jack, now. Jack would be near. Jack would hold Eric. Kiss him. Take him to bed, hopefully. It had been so long since Eric let someone take him to bed. 

He shouldn’t. This was a bad idea. He should stand up instead. Go to the kitchen. The moment would be broken. Jack would let him. 

He didn’t want to. 

Ever so slowly, Eric turned to look at Jack. 

Jack was watching him, eyes dark. He leant in and Eric met him, bringing his arms up to wrap around Jack’s neck, even as Jack’s arms came around him, pulling him in tightly. 

It was like they’d never been apart. Or, maybe, like Jack had been away on a particularly long roadie and now he was home and they were going to make up for lost time. 

Jack’s kisses were all-consuming. Fierce. Eric found himself giving in to them without really meaning to. Opening his mouth with a moan and letting Jack have him. Letting Jack guide him so he was laying back on the couch. Letting Jack’s hands run all over him. Jack’s mouth move down his jaw to the sensitive spot at the junction of his neck and then on further down, shoving the neck of Eric’s shirt wide to suck a mark into his collar bone. 

Eric lay there, arms above his head, legs spread, and let Jack do whatever the hell he wanted. It had been so long and Jack seemed to still remember every spot on Eric’s body. 

Part of him was listening for the lock on the door. For Michael’s footsteps on the stairs. For something to break the moment. It didn’t come, though. Instead he got Jack’s hands under his shirt, pushing it up so Jack could lean down and suck bruising kisses onto his stomach. 

Eric moaned. He couldn’t help it. A full out moan that had Jack making a strange, strangled little noise in reply. Had him pushing back up Eric’s body - boxing him in with his arms and kissing him like he wanted to make up for all the years they hadn’t been doing this together with just one kiss and Eric was more than willing to let him do that. Eric had ascended. 

When Jack climbed off the couch and reached for him, Eric didn’t hesitate to follow. Tangled their fingers together and let Jack guide him. They crept up the stairs like thieves. Eric couldn’t tear his eyes from the front door, convinced that any second it’d open and Shitty and Johnson would be there. 

Then they were in Jack’s room. The door was locked. 

They’d made it. 

This was really happening. 

Eric giggled, leaning forward to hide the sound in Jack’s shoulder. Jack’s arms folded up around him, pulled him in closer and Eric tilted his head back for another soul stealing kiss. His back hit the door and he gasped. Reached up to loop his arms around Jack’s neck so Jack couldn’t pull away. Not that Jack was trying. 

Rather, he was running his hands over Eric’s back. Eric shuddered at the trail of fingers. At those large palms cupping his bottom and pulling him in flush. He threaded his fingers up in Jack’s hair. Tugged a little in a way that he remembered used to drive Jack wild and was rewarded with a groan against Eric’s neck. 

“We have to be quiet,” Eric whispered against Jack’s lips. “Someone’ll hear…” 

“Michael’s at the other end of the house,” Jack said, voice deep and close and god but Eric had missed this. “Besides, I’m not the loud one.” 

“You can be,” Eric said, freeing one hand from Jack’s hair and reaching around to grab a handful of that rear. There were a few French curses to that and Eric found himself grinning and then laughing when Jack scooped him up and carried him to the bed, dumping him on the fresh sheets. 

Eric reached out but Jack pulled back, and for a moment he stood beside the bed and just looked. Eric felt the blush creeping over his cheeks but managed to resist the temptation to squirm away and hide. To turn away from Jack’s eyes. 

“Beautiful,” Jack said, so softly Eric almost missed it. Then he was stepping back and, good lord, he started to take off his clothes. The shirt first, pulled over Jack’s head with a flex of arms and shoulders to reveal a body that told a story Eric hadn’t been there for. A body that had changed shape - softened now hockey was over. A body that bore the marks of old wounds. Eric sat up, reached forward to lay his fingers on a scar over Jack’s hip. Jack’s hand covered his, big and warm and reassuring, and when he looked up Jack was there with a soft kiss. 

“Hey,” Jack whispered. “Are we okay?” 

“More than okay,” Eric replied. He let his fingers trail down Jack’s stomach, flirt around the fastening of his trousers. “Jack, please?” 

“Anything,” Jack said. He stepped back and stripped with an almost military precision while Eric stood and opened his own trousers. He was already hard and goodness knew it had been long enough that he shouldn’t be embarrassed to be a little eager but...

He looked up again and Jack was watching him, eyes hooded. Looking at Eric like he hadn’t lost muscle mass and put on weight since they were last naked together. 

Like Jack wanted to eat him alive. 

Eric pulled off his shirt. Let his trousers pool around his ankles, then his underwear. Stepped out of them. 

Jack met him with large, warm hands on his hips. Pulled him in so they were stood, flush against each other again. Eric had always loved how small he felt next to Jack. How large and solid Jack was. The strength that was so obvious in every inch of his body. 

He looked down at himself. How would they look to other people now? They’d been beautiful back when. Both so strong and full of life and...

A finger under his chin, tilting his head up. Jack’s eyes met his with lazer focus, then he leant in and kissed Eric. A deep, filthy, possessive kiss – all tongue and hands and lips and Eric moaned into it. Melted into it. Moaned and pressed forward. Let Jack’s hands run over the changes in his body. The extra fat. The places where muscle should be but wasn’t. Jack didn’t stop and Eric wasn’t going to stop him. 

Then he was grabbing Eric’s bottom again, leaning over him to do it and keep kissing him and Eric felt like he could just crawl into Jack and live there. 

Jack pulled back eventually. Walked Eric backwards and pushed him so he was sat on the edge of the bed, then further back so he was lying, legs hanging down. He opened his legs and Jack knelt between them. Leant forward over Eric to kiss his body. To kiss all the places that had changed. 

But for all the change, this felt the same. Jack had always been so much and Eric had always melted for him. Had always been helpless in the face of Jack Zimmermann. 

Jack used to suck cock like it was an Olympic sport. Like he lived for the sounds he could wring out of Eric with his mouth and his hands. It didn’t take long for Eric to realise that, where Jack had always been good, apparently in the years they’d been apart he’d raised this to an art form. 

Eric couldn’t do anything but lay there and gasp. Clench his fists in the sheets. His body shuddered at the wet heat, the soft touched. Jack took his time, working Eric over slowly before bringing him closer and closer, then backing away again. Retreating to kiss Eric’s thighs or stomach until Eric was almost back in control of his breathing and then honing back in, making Eric bite his lips raw to keep from shouting the house down. 

By the time he came, Eric was sobbing. Reduced to gasping Jack’s name and the word please over and over as his entire body shook with the power of his release. Shaking even more as Jack climbed up the bed beside him. Scooped Eric up and manoeuvred him until they were spooning, Jack still hard against his back but seeming not to care. Rubbing Eric’s stomach instead. Kissing his hair and murmuring soothing nonsense about how perfect and beautiful Eric was and Eric just could not stop the hot tears rolling down his cheeks or the way his body was shuddering. 

Eventually, he got himself together enough to turn. To press his face into Jack’s should and breath and concentrate on right now. On Jack’s arms around him and his warmth and the smell of him. On being right here, now. Jack Zimmemann’s again. 

When he finally pulled back, Jack kissed him. A mess though he was, that didn’t seem to bother Jack. 

“Hey,” Jack whispered again, soft as all the beautiful words he’d said as Eric had fallen apart in his arms. “I’ll take it that was good for you?” 

Eric couldn’t help but laugh. “You could say that. I think you win the Stanley cup of blowjobs.” 

“Nice,” Jack said. “I’ll add it to the cabinet.” 

Eric laughed and somehow it all felt manageable again. Being here in Jack’s arms. Feeling so damn much after so long and so far between them. It all felt like maybe a thing he could get used to again. 

Then Jack shifted and Eric felt him, still hard, against his hip. 

“Oh, sweetie,” he said, shocked with himself. “Let me get that for you!” 

“You don’t need to, Eric.” 

“Please,” Eric said. He suddenly wanted that very much. Wanted to see Jack’s face when he came again – to know if that had changed. Wanted to learn if all the tricks he’d kept locked tight in the back of his brain for all these years still drove Jack just as mad. 

Jack smiled at him and some of that must have come through on Eric’s face because he nodded. Moved so he pressed into Jack again. 

“I wish we had lube,” he said. “I’d fuck your thighs. Make a real mess of you.” 

“Goodness,” Eric blushed. “Well...” he stopped himself saying maybe next time, but only just. There might not be a next time. And even if there was, goodness knows where they’d hide the stuff here Shitty wouldn’t find it and chirp them for the rest of their lives. “You could use my mouth.” 

“Like we used to?” 

Eric nodded and then Jack was moving so it must have been a good suggestion. Eric manoeuvred so he was on his back, head hanging over the side of the bed. They used to have a table that was just the right height for this. Eric used to just sprawl out across it and let Jack use him however he wanted. The bed wasn’t quite the right height and the angle was going to be awkward but Eric wanted this too much to complain. 

“You sure about this?” Jack asked, moving into the right position. 

“Yeah. It’s been a while though so be gentle with me?” 

“Always,” Jack said, and he said it so softly. So tenderly. Like he was talking about more than sex. Like he was talking about everything. 

And then he was right there and Eric opened his mouth. Let his throat relax. The taste of the condom was thick in his mouth but he got used to it quickly. Got used to the feel of Jack in him like this. He moaned around Jack just for the way it made Jack gasp, his hips stutter like he couldn’t control himself. 

It was easy to fall into the rhythm of it. To the sensation. To forget everything, how long had passed and how Eric hadn’t done this in so long and how much people, exactly, must have done this for Jack. To narrow his world down to the feeling of Jack moving in and out of him. Jack’s hands on him. The helpless little sounds and curses Jack made as he used Eric in just the right way. 

And then Jack was cursing. Coming and pulling back and it was Eric’s turn to sit. To open his arms and let Jack collapse foward into them. To stroke Jack’s hair and sigh his name tenderly, his throat sore in the best way. 

He really hoped he was going to be able to talk the next day. 

Slowly, Eric drifted back to himself. The world started to shift back into focus. The was the distant sound of a car. A neighbour banging a door. Little reminders that Eric couldn’t just curl up here and sleep forever. 

Reluctantly, he pulled back and climbed out of the bed on shaky legs. Started looking for his clothes. 

“Eric?” 

“Shitty and Johnson’ll be back soon. I should be in the bed I’m meant to be in.” 

“Stay?” 

Eric looked over. Jack was staring at him with such intensity, such open desire, it made his knees weak. Made him want to crawl over there and agree to just about anything Jack wanted from him. Beg for it. 

The front door slammed. There was a burst of laughter. Jack looked away. 

“Michael’ll wonder if I’m not in bed in the morning. I have to go.” 

Jack nodded, face twisted into a frown. Then he stood, helped Eric find his clothes and get dressed and Jack’s hands on him as he redressed were reassuring. Tender. When Eric pulled his t-shirt back on they shared a soft kiss, Jack’s taking his hands and squeezing. 

“Hey Jack!” Shitty shouted, the noise echoing up the stairs. Eric was pressed close against Jack so felt the wince. “You awake still?” 

Jack sighed. Grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it on, then his boxers. Eric lingered by the door as Jack found a pair of worn track pants he must sleep in. 

He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want this to end. He didn’t know if he’d get to do this again and it’d all been so much. But he had to. If he stayed and them, tomorrow, Jack told him they couldn’t do this again. If everyone knew he’d thrown himself at Jack and ultimately been rejected. 

“Hey.” Jack was there, crowding into his space and kissing him. “Slip out when I go downstairs?” 

“Okay,” Eric said. “Are we...are we good?” 

“Of course,” Jack said, pressing another soft, chased kiss to the corner of his lips. “Always. And for next time, I’m picking up some lube.” 

Eric flushed. Next time. He nodded and Jack smiled, then he was opening the door and Eric slipped away to the darkness of the room he was sharing with Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I would like to appologise if I was slow with replying to comments and not as there as I'd like to be last week. I have had a shitty week, to be blunt. My mum's been in hospital. She's home now but it was like, rushing her to A&E on Tuesday morning and she got out last night. Fun reminded of the mortality of the parent there (it wasn't THAT serious, but it wasn't not serious either). I've spent most of the week bouncing between work and keeping my dad and the dogs running so he could keep mum going. That has, obviously, been taking up most of my brain space. So I HAVE edited this but a few things might have slipped through and if they have, tell me in the comments and I'll set them to rights. 
> 
> I am, also, so incredibly happy with the comments everyone's been leaving. It warms my heart to read them and I'm so happy that this story's striking a chord with so many people. Adulting is hard shit and I'm glad I got to play with that in fandom. So thank you again to everyone who's commented. You've really made all the hard work that went into writing this fic worthwhile.


	5. Nursey and Dex

"Five more minutes." 

Jack was grumbling into his pillow. He adjusted his arms, pulling Eric closer, and Eric couldn't help but laugh. Half a lifetime ago, when this was a thing he had, this was always the other way around. Him hiding his head in the covers, hoping that the day could be held off for just a few more hours - Jack trying to drag him up. 

"Honey," Eric said, reaching up to run his hands over Jack's back. "I've got to move. I need to be back in the bed I should be in before Michael wakes up." 

"Don't see why," Jack grumbled, but he turned his head on the pillow to look at Eric and he was smiling. A smiling, sleep-mussed Jack Zimmermann. It was more than Eric's poor heart could handle and he had to lean over, bury his face in Jack's shoulder to hide the blush. 

Jack seemed to take that as Eric agreeing to stay a little longer and made a content noise, pulling Eric even further in against him and pressing a kiss to the top of Eric's head and Eric wanted to sing and cry and run as far away from all this as he could and stay here forever and never move from Jack's arms again. 

For half a second he wondered if that might be a thing Jack would theoretically want, too. Eric staying here forever. He stamped down on it ruthlessly. He couldn't even think about it. It was too much. 

Slowly, he eased himself backwards. Jack grumbled but let him go this time, apparently far enough back into sleep that he didn't care. 

Eric trod lightly around the room, retrieving his clothes. They'd been a little crazy the night before. Hours in the back seat of that car together - close enough to touch but not able to. It'd felt like the early days of their relationship again. Or any of the public parts of their relationship. 

Of course, now it wasn't Jack's professional hockey career keeping those inches between them but Eric. Eric and his son. 

It wasn't strange that he didn't want Michael to know. It was new and fragile and it was the first time since Steve left that he’d had something like this. It was going to cause problems if Michael knew, though he'd find out in the end of course, when they told everyone. 

If they told everyone. 

If it wasn't just a fling. Just Jack working out the last lingering strands of affection he held for Eric before he went off and did whatever great hockey stars do when they can't play hockey any more. 

Eric tried to shut that thought down quickly, turned his attention back to finding his clothes and getting dressed. His trousers were, somehow, half under the bed. He had to kneel to retrieve them. They were irredeemably wrinkled, obviously. Last night, getting them off in a tidy way had been low on the priority list. Jack had kept catching his eye at dinner. Touching him when he didn't need to. Shitty and Michael hadn't said anything so it couldn't have been too obvious but Eric felt each touch like a lightning bolt. 

Then he'd had to go back to the room he shared with Michael and sit there on the bed, pretending to fall asleep, until he was sure Michael was dead to the world. 

By the time he'd made it to Jack's room, neither of them had much patience or self control left. 

Eric smiled and straightened himself out as much as he could, then risked a glance down. Jack was still asleep. He looked so good. So warm and solid. Eric could just imagine curling up into him and staying there. It might not even really matter. Michael might not care. Shitty might not even comment on it. 

But, then, when Jack left him, they'd all know. All know that Eric had failed at this again. 

Better to keep it quiet for the next little while. 

Eric leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to Jack's forehead then slipped out. Maybe he'd go pick them all something for breakfast - then they could get on the road to Dex and Nursey's a little earlier. 

***

Eric had no bones left. He was dead. They were going to have to scrape him off this beach when they were done and he didn’t even care. He was one with the sand. 

“Yo, Bitts.” Eric cracked an eye. Shitty had dumped himself on the sand next to Eric’s head. Eric raised an eyebrow. “You coming in the sea, Brah? I’m trying to get a game of something going. Dex and Jack are in.” 

“Ask Michael. I’m busy.” 

“You’re kind of just lying here?” 

“Yes,” Eric agreed. “I’m busy just lying here. Get lost, Shitty.” 

Shitty laughed but he did stand up, throwing Eric into shade for a second as he ran off down the beach. Eric let himself relax back into the warmth for a while, until the shouting started. It wasn’t mean shouting, just the kind of noise that indicated Shitty had rounded up enough people to start that game. 

Eric forced himself up onto his elbows and pushed his sunglasses back onto his head. They were out in the shallows with a ball, playing something that might have made pretensions at volleyball only without the net. They were laughing, all four of them. Jack and Shitty against Michael and Dex. 

Jack. 

Jack in shorts. Jack smiling, like he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world. Before, there’s always been an undercurrent of tension. Like he was waiting for the world to come and pat him on the shoulder and tell him to work harder. 

Now he was smiling. Loose limbed. Turning light brown in the sun. 

Tonight, Eric was going to climb him like a tree. 

It was too good to be true, it really was. 

Eric watched as Jack sent the ball flying wildly out to sea and Shitty jumped on him, pushing Jack over into the surf where they sat wrestling like they were still kids. Like nobody had ever expected them to be adults in their lives. 

It was enough to make Eric’s heart light. 

“Yo, Bitts!” 

Eric let his head roll back to where Nurse was walking down the beach. Life had obviously been good to him, he seemed to almost be glowing. But, then, Nurse had always had that ability to take what life gave him and make the best of it. Eric had envied him that for a long time, but with the sun and Jack so close, it was easier to just be openly happy. 

“Hey, hun. You want to sit for a while?” 

“Sure,” Nurse said, dropping down. “What’s the betting Dex isn’t wearing sunscreen? He’s gonna be so red tonight.” 

“Sweetie, you’ve been married for years. I think you can use first names.” 

“Nah,” Nurse said with a laugh. “Once a hockey bro, always a hockey bro. And besides, it’s who we are. I called him Dex at the fucking alter, Bitts. Which you’d know if you’d been there.” 

He’d received the RSVP for their wedding the month after Steve had walked out of his life. He hadn’t been able to face it. All those people looking at him, knowing his business. Dex and Nursey, so happy together - starting a shared life when he’d managed to destroy his. 

He glanced back out at Jack. How long before he ruined this too? 

No, he wasn’t going there today. 

Instead, he closed his eyes and relaxed back onto the sand. “Why don’t you go and play with the others? I think I’m just going to nap.” 

“Maybe I will. Sunscreen, Bitts. Trust me, you’re going to need it.” 

Eric cracked an eye to Nurse heading down towards the water. For a second he almost didn’t bother with the sunscreen out of sheer perversity but Nurse had a point. Eric sat up and grabbed the sunscreen. 

***

“*Oh man, you look like a fucking lobster.” 

“Language,” Eric said, glancing at Michael. Michael was slumping in his chair, pulling his knees up to his chest. It wasn’t very dignified and Eric wouldn’t have normally let him get away with it but he suspected he’d get a frosty reception if he mentioned it now. 

Things had been going so well. 

“Fuck off, Nurse,” Dex said, glaring from across the table. “If you fucking know so much then why didn’t you tell me to put on sunscreen at the time?” 

“Would you have even listened to me?” 

“Yes.” Dex gritted his teeth. Nurse rolled his eyes. Bitty sighed. He should have known not to expect miracles. Married or not, Nursey and Dex were still Nursey and Dex. 

And Eric was still, clearly, team mom. 

“Why don’t y’all just leave it for now,” he said. “I think Jack and Shitty should be nearly done with dinner. Dex, maybe you can go and help them carry it?” 

“No, thanks,” Dex said. “I’m good here.” 

“Oh my god,” Nurse said, letting his head drop onto the table. “Just go and put some fucking aloe on your face.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Would you both stop swearing in front of my kid?” 

“He’s, like, almost an adult Bitts. Chill.” 

“Yeah, Eric,” Michael grumbled. “I hear worse stuff on the ice. Lay off.” 

So now he was the bad guy. Again. 

Great. 

“Fine. Swear all you like. But you’re being childish. Won’t one of you just go away and cool down a little?” 

“God, Bitts,” Nurse said. “You’re not our mom. We’re fine. This is barely even an argument. Pointdexter’s just being an ass.” 

“I’m the one being an ass? Really? You’re the one laughing at me.” 

“Well, you’re the one who forgot he’s basically one giant sunburn waiting to happen. How is that on me?” 

“People who love each other are meant to help each other.” 

“Yeah, well maybe I’d tell you things more if you ever actually listened to me!” 

“Can you both just…?” 

“Clear out, Bitts,” Dex snapped. “This has nothing to do with you.” 

“I don’t…” 

“My god Eric, just fucking stop.” Michael was on his feet, face like a thunderstorm. 

“What did you say?” 

“Just…fucking stop. Stop trying to fix things and to fucking pretend that things are okay! I hate that. I hate you!” 

“Michael?” 

Eric whipped around. Jack was in the doorway wearing his best disapproving Captain Face. Eric felt his stomach drop. How many years and he still hated that face? 

“What?”

“Don’t talk to your dad like that!” 

“Jack. It’s okay…” 

“Oh my god,” Michael yelled, stomping his foot, and here they went. If there was a way back from this tipping point of adolescent emotions then Eric hadn’t found it yet. “He’s not even my fucking dad. He’s just some guy.” 

“Michael.” Warning tone. It didn’t work. 

“And who are you anyway? Just coming in and acting like you’re someone. Fuck you too.” 

“Michael, please…?” But Eric didn’t even get to finish the sentence. Michael was up and out of his chair and a second later the front door banged. Eric swore under his breath. 

This was it, then. The point where it all stopped being worth it for Jack. He’d hoped they’d manage a few more days but he should really have seen this coming. Michael had never been good at being stable when Eric had needed him to. 

“I have to go,” Eric said, pushing himself out of his chair. “He might get lost.” 

Jack nodded. “Let me tell Shitty where we’re going and I’ll come with you.” 

“No.” 

Every eye in the room seemed to be on him. 

“You’ve done enough, Jack. I’m going to go and talk him down and then…then we’ll get out of your hair. This is ridiculous, I should never have agreed to come.” He should have known this’d be a disaster and he’d only end up getting hurt. He could feel the pain already, pushing up and making it hard to breath. Oh god, he needed to be out of here or he was going to end up crying or shouting and he didn’t need that, not now. 

“Don’t be like this, please.” 

Eric laughed. It was always him, right? Always him being the wrong way. “You don’t get to talk to my kid like that, Jack. You’re not his parent. I am.” 

“And you never say no to him. Eric, he shouldn’t be talking to you like that.” 

“It doesn’t matter what he should do. You stuck your opinion where it wasn’t wanted and now he’s out there alone. I just… I need to find him.” 

“Bitts?” That was Dex. Looking small and unsure. “Maybe we should...?” 

“Y’all just stay here. Just… I’m just sorry. I didn’t mean to mess this up.” 

Then he headed for the door before anyone else could try to stop him.

***

Eric didn’t have to go far to find Michael. 

He almost missed him, convinced he’d have kept moving. He was normally pretty good at making himself scarce when he wanted to. But, today, Eric came out of the end of the driveway and Michael was there - curled up and looking miserable on the concrete. Eric almost walked right past him, crouched as he was behind the wall. 

“Oh, sweetie,” he said, rounding on Michael. “What’s wrong?” 

“Just… you know what’s wrong. Just leave me alone. I’m not going to run off and get lost or anything. Just… just leave me alone.” 

“Honey, I can’t do that,” Eric said. “Can I just sit here, maybe? You don’t need to talk to me or even look at me, but can I just sit?” 

Michael paused but then he nodded so Eric lowered himself to the concrete. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but he settled in anyway. In his pocket, his phone started to buzz but he ignored it. It’d only be Jack or Shitty and he’d get back to them when he’d dealt with this. 

It took a long time for Michael to relax. For him to stop looking so forlorn. He even edged towards Eric a little and Eric let himself mimic the gesture to close the gap between them. To let Michael’s head fall on his shoulder. And it was nice. It shouldn’t be, Michael was upset, but he was upset and he’s leaning on Eric and it’d been a long time since he did that. 

“I’m sorry,” Eric said, eventually. 

“Whatever,” Michael grumbled, though he did relax a little more. “I just… I don’t like fighting.” 

“I know, sweetie. They don’t mean it, if it helps. They’ve always been like this.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael said. “Just… mom and dad used to fight a lot, right? And I know that’s not why someone crashed into them only maybe it is? Like, maybe they were arguing and if they’d paid more attention to the road?” 

“Oh sweetie,” Eric sighed, letting himself risk an arm around Michael’s shoulder. Michael melted into him a little more. It was almost a real cuddle. “That’s not something you can control. People are going to fight. Maybe that contributed to their accident, maybe it didn’t. You can’t control things like that.” 

“I know,” Michael grumbled. “I just… I miss them.” 

“I know, baby.” They never talked about this. Eric had tried, early on, but he’d never managed to get anything and he’d let it drop, not wanting to hurt Michael more. Now he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have pushed. 

“I know you know. Because you never argue. Or you think you don’t.” 

“I try,” Eric said, slowly. 

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “I noticed that you don’t argue. Like, when I first lived with you. And at first it was great. Because where Mom and Dad used to throw things and shout you just got really quiet, even if Dad shouted at you. And I thought that was better.” 

“Wasn’t it?” 

“No,” Michael said, firmly, like he’d given this a lot of thought. “Because then you got divorced and I realised that just because you didn’t yell, it didn’t mean you weren’t fighting.” 

“We didn’t fight. Michael, Steve and I didn’t break up because we were fighting.” 

“No,” Michael admitted. Eric had tried to protect him from the worst of it when all the things about Steve’s infidelity came out, but there was only so much he could do. “That’s not why you broke up, but you fought all the time.” 

“We didn’t.” 

“You did,” Michael insisted, pulling away a little. “Dad’d do something stupid and instead of just saying what he’d done that upset you, you’d just go all super-quiet about it and be weird and Dad’d notice that you were being weird with him and then he’d get pissed and try to pick fights with you but you just got more and more fucking southern about it and then you wouldn’t speak for days and I never knew what to do…” 

“Oh gosh,” Eric said. Michael was right. Because he didn’t fight, he did shut people down. And he did do that to Steve. And maybe Steve was right to leave him. Maybe he was distant and didn’t really care. 

“I get scared,” Michael said, addressing the remark to the floor. “Because I never know how you feel about me. Like, you could hate me and you’d still call me Sugar and look after me and I don’t know what to do? You’re never honest with me. I talked about it a bit with Shitty and he said that expressing your needs was an important part of any relationship. I feel like I can’t tell you anything because you won’t tell me anything and if I do talk to you, you’ll just try and fix things.” 

“Of course I will. I love you, that’s my job.” 

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “But, like, sometimes you can’t fix it. Or I don’t want you to. Sometimes all I want is, like, for someone else to know that shit’s bad then let me fix it myself.” 

“But I always try and fix it.” 

“Yeah. Like, when Dad left, every time I told you I was sad you’d do something big to try and cheer me up and, like, all I really wanted was for you to say you were sad too and give me a hug.” 

Eric remembered that. Remembered the lengths he’d gone to, trying to make sure Michael didn’t know how much he was hurting inside. How betrayed and alone he felt. He’d thought it was the right thing to do. He’d thought he was protecting Michael.

Eric opened his arms and Michael lent into them again, wrapping an arm around Eric. It was lovely. 

“I’m sorry,” Eric said, softly. “I… I suppose I have taken southern passive aggression to its extreme a few times?” 

“Yeah,” Michael snorted. 

“I’ll try to be better. Try to tell you what I’m feeling. But, honey, do you think you can do the same? Sometimes I think all we do it yell at each other. I miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” Michael whispered. “It’s just… you’re a lot, Dad?” 

“I’m what?” 

“You try to be perfect and you can’t. You try to do everything for me and you can’t. You don’t have anything in your life other than me, you know. And that’s too much. I can’t be the only thing in your life.” 

“I’m not asking you to.” 

“But you are. Because you go to work and you look after me and that’s all you do. This trip, I think this is the first thing I’ve ever seen you do for yourself and not for me.” 

Eric couldn’t exactly argue about that. Michael was so young. So scared. And sometimes Eric looked at him and loved him so much that he could barely stand it and he wanted to make the world perfect for his son. 

He knew he couldn’t, but he wanted. 

“Okay,” he said, softly. “I understand what you’re saying. But, it’s a little scary for me, Michael. I don’t have the best track record with making good life decisions.” 

“Just because Dad messed around on you doesn’t mean you can’t make good decisions.” 

“Oh, your dad’s just one in a long line,” Eric said with a laugh. “I understand what you mean, though. I just want you to know that this isn’t easy. I can try, if it’s what you want, but it’s not easy.” 

“It is what I want,” Michael nodded against his shoulder. “And, besides, you seem to be doing okay with Jack?” 

Eric flushed. “You noticed that?” 

“Dad, blind men notice that. It’s, well, it’s kind of weird because you’re my Dad and he’s, like, my favourite hockey player but I figure it’s good? You seem happier when he’s around.” 

“I am,” Eric said. He started to bite back on the doubt that was rolling in his stomach but hadn’t his son just lectured him on all of that. He was going to be better, he was. “I just… I’m not sure what he wants? From me? In the long term?” 

“Have you talked to him about it?” 

“No.” 

“Then you know what you need to do, Dad,” Michael said with a laugh. Then he moved, worming his way out of Eric’s arms and standing and stretching. His eyes were red and puffy but he was smiling. 

“Fine, I’ll talk to him. But, in the interests of openness, can you tell me why you got thrown out of the hockey team?” 

Michael groaned and blushed, but he did answer. “There’s this one guy, I really hate him. He’s always saying, like, homophobic and racist and sexist shit but he’s the biggest guy on the team so nobody says anything but then he came at me like, hey, Michael, your dad’s a… you know…” he glanced up at Eric before continuing. “And I didn’t like it, so I punched him.” 

“Oh honey,” Eric said with a grin. “And he didn’t flatten you?” 

“I’m fast,” Michael said with a shrug. 

“Well, I can’t say I’d normally approve of you punching people in the mouth but, in this particular case, I’m proud of you.” 

“Really? I thought you’d be mad? I mean, I know hockey’s important to you.” 

“It is,” Eric agreed. “And I don’t know how I’m going to pay for college for you without it. But you stood up and did the right thing and I’m proud that I helped raise a person who does that.” 

Michael flushed. “Thanks, Dad.” 

“You’re welcome. Now, come on inside and let’s see if we’re still welcome.” 

***

Jack was waiting for them in the foyer of the house. He was holding his phone so the buzzing in Eric’s pocket was probably his doing. He looked worried, face pinched, and it didn’t seem to help when Michael came slinking in after Eric with red eyes. 

“You’re back,” Jack said. 

“Yeah,” Michael said, before Eric could answer. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have got so worked up.” 

Something in Jack’s face softened at that, like he’d just been waiting for Michael to apologise and now he could let it all go. He reached past Eric to squeeze Michael’s shoulder and Michael smiled for him so maybe that was all he needed. 

“I’m just gonna go say sorry to the others. You two… yeah…” Michael said, and then turned and headed towards the kitchen. Eric rolled his eyes. He’d apparently never taught that boy any subtlety. 

But now he was alone with Jack. 

“Feeling better?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. Eric blushed. Looked down at his hands. 

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just a lot sometimes.” 

“No, you were right,” Jack frowned down at the ground. “He’s not my kid and I shouldn’t have told him what to do. I just…I didn’t like how he spoke to you. You deserve better than that, Eric.” 

“Thanks,” Eric said. He moved to take a step closer and a burst of laughter from the kitchen interrupted them. Michael had obviously been forgiven. 

Now wasn’t the time. 

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, softly. “I said I would and if you want me to…” 

“I want you to stay.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes.” 

Eric nodded because Jack wouldn’t say he was sure if he wasn’t. Not with something like this. “Then I think we need to talk. Not now but soon. It’s Lardo last, right? She’s only a day’s drive away and when we get there…” 

“We’ll talk,” Jack said, and it sounded like a promise. “Whatever you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! I nearly forgot to post this. Not working today has clearly blown my mind. Doing it now before I forget AGAIN. Ooops. 
> 
> Thank you for all the well wishes for my mum. She's doing a lot better. We're nearly back to as close to normal as we ever get around here so it's all good. 
> 
> Next to last chapter now. Last chapter will be next week and then there's a series of short follow up pieces I'll post. I've written three, going to write at least one more, maybe three more. Trying to decide what I need to feel like I'm done with the story. 
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


	6. Lardo

You could have cut the air in the car and spread it on toast. 

Jack seemed to have taken ‘let’s not talk about this right now’ as ‘let’s not talk at all’ and, honestly, Eric didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t know if Jack was trying to respect his wishes or was trying to create distance between them before he let Eric down or what? Either way, he didn’t like it. 

Shitty was, obviously, terrified and pretty deep in thought. He kept throwing glances between Jack and Eric like he was judging them and maybe he was. After all, they were going to see Lardo. And Eric knew that everything Jack had meant to him in college, Lardo had meant to Shitty. He wondered if Shitty had been watching them. Watching them circle each other. Draw nearer. Then draw back again. 

They weren’t exactly setting a good model for how it could be done. 

Michael was the only one who seemed immune to the tension, though he was obviously lost in his own thoughts. He’d hugged Eric that morning when they’d set out from Dex and Nursey’s, like hugging was just a thing they did, and maybe it was now? 

At this point, well, Eric couldn’t say that he didn’t care about what Jack thought of him, but as long as Michael and he managed to get along better, the trip had been worth it. 

They only took a few rest breaks to switch drivers and stock up on junk food but it was still late evening by the time they passed under the sign welcoming them to the artists’ retreat where Lardo was currently living. 

Eric couldn’t help but look around curiously. After passing under the sign, they were directed to a car park. It was surrounded by woodland. Eric had never been good with nature but it seemed like the kind of place you might get lost in. The kind of place you’d find in a fairytale. The trees were tall and had a sense of age to them. Sunlight broke through their branches to cast tiny pools of light and warmth. The floor was crisp and looked undisturbed. 

They took their bags from the car. There was a path, clearly marked, and they followed it more or less in silence. 

All around them, they could hear birds. Insects. It was strange. 

“You know,” Eric found himself saying, softly. “I think it’s years since I’ve been this far out of civilisation.” 

“Me too,” Shitty said, awe in his voice. Eric couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, even if Shitty and Lardo didn’t manage to patch up at least a few of their differences, Shitty would find something he needed here. 

And then the path was opening out into a clearing with houses scattered around it. It was obvious that this was an artist place. Everything was colourful and it seemed like people took painting their houses as a personal challenge. It was overwhelming but also beautiful. 

It was like a fairytale land. Hidden in the forest. Eric couldn’t help catching Jack’s eye and smiling. 

If there was ever a place to fix something that was broken, this was it. 

The houses were arranged around a field where some kids were playing. Their arrival drew some attention and one of the kids set off at a run towards one of the houses. It would have been awkward but it wasn’t long before the other kids were coming over towards them. 

“Hey,” one of the older girls said. “Are you Larissa’s friends?” 

“For sure,” Jack said, smiling. 

“Cool,” the girl said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She was maybe Michael’s age and pretty enough that when Eric glanced back, he wasn’t surprised at the expression of interest on his son’s face. “She’ll be down in a minute. Do you want to, like, join in?” She gestured back at the game and they all excused themselves except Michael who, with a glance back at Eric, set off to join her. 

She said something to him as he walked away that made his ears turn red and Eric found himself smiling at it. Found himself glancing sideways and sharing that smile with Jack. 

Then Lardo was heading across the field towards them, hair shorter than Eric had ever seen and an open smile on her face, and Eric couldn’t stop himself from walking out to meet her. Pulling her into a tight hug. Maybe he should have let Shitty go first but he couldn’t help himself. They’d been so close and he’d missed her so much. 

“Hey,” he said softly. “Good to see you, bro.” 

“Good to see you too,” he said, pulling her up off her feet and making her shriek. “My gosh, I can’t believe this place.” 

“Pretty awesome, right?” 

And then Jack was there so Eric put her down to let Jack have a turn. He hid his smile as they leant into each other. 

They’d all missed her. 

Then Shitty was there and there was a second’s pause before Shitty stepped forward and Lardo met him, wrapping her arms around him tight enough that it looked like it hurt and Eric might have been worried if Shitty hadn’t looked just so damn happy to see her. To be held. And Eric couldn’t help but wonder if this had been the point all along. 

He took a step closer to Jack. He couldn’t complain. 

“Hey,” Lardo said, pulling back a little. “Come on, let’s get you guys settled. Where’s your kid, Eric?” 

“Playing with the other kids,” Eric said. “I guess he wanted some time with someone his own age after hanging out with us old guys for so long.” 

Lardo laughed and turned to lead them back across the field. She talked like she was giving a guided tour and Eric got the idea of someone with a lot of money who smiled down on them like a benevolent god of art and let them have this community, but he walked close enough to Jack that their hands were brushing and it was, honestly, a little distracting. 

Her house was small but comfortable. She seemed to have covered every flat surface with blankets to make enough places for them to sleep. Eric could tell it was going to play hell with his back but he smiled and thanked her anyway. 

She produced a bottle of wine. Eric made a pie. Piece by piece, the tension melted away and by the time Michael appeared, visibly dropping, they were all on their way to tipsy and Eric was tucked into Jack’s side. 

It felt like old times. Good times. Like when Jack and Bitty had been together in Providence and Shitty and Lardo used to come down and they’d drink too much wine and pretend they were adults. 

Eric fell asleep on the floor that night, but he didn’t even mind. 

***

If Eric needed any proof that he wasn’t twenty any more, his pounding head when he woke up on the floor would be it. He groaned and pulled the blanket up over his head but his bladder was making demands so he forced himself up, stumbled through to the bathroom. He managed to not throw up but felt like it was a tight run thing and certainly didn’t feel like he deserved the chuckle Jack threw at him when he stumbled into the kitchen. 

“Hey,” Jack said, and Eric groaned, but then Jack was setting a glass of water and a couple of aspirin at Eric’s elbow and everything was forgiven. Eric swallowed them and then, after a second, abandoned Jack to go back to the guest room where he, Jack and Michael had squeezed in last night, and crawled back under his blanket nest. 

When he woke up again, he felt vaguely more human. He forced himself through to the living room where Jack was sat, reading a book. 

“Hey,” Jack said, grinning. “Are you staying this time?” 

“How can you be so perky?” Eric groaned, collapsing on the couch next to Jack. He paused for a second then lent over, letting his head fall onto Jack’s shoulder. “You drank as much as me.” 

“Better tolerance,” Jack said with a shrug. “Think you can eat something? I could make you eggs?” 

“Please,” Eric groaned. Jack laughed and moved which wasn’t what Eric had wanted at all. With Jack gone, there was no point staying where he was so Eric followed him, slumping into the tiny kitchen and seating himself at the breakfast bar as Jack puttered about. 

“Where are the others?” he asked, eventually. 

“Michael’s playing with some of the other kids. They came knocking on the door this morning. Shitty and Lardo went for a walk, I think. Lardo said they had a lot to talk about and pulled him outside anyway so I guess…?” 

“I guess we have a lot to talk about too?” 

“Yeah,” Jack said, expression tightening for a second. “But, after eggs?” 

“After eggs,” Eric agreed. 

The eggs were creamy and perfectly seasoned, just like Eric remembered. He ate them at the breakfast bar then shooed Jack back into the living room while he washed the plates. It was the least he could do, since Jack had cooked for him. 

And if, maybe, it gave him a few minutes to gather his thoughts and take a breath, that was between him and himself. 

Jack was waiting in the living room when Eric was done. He was perched on the edge of the sofa, staring at his hands. Eric moved to sit next to him then, impulsively, reached out and took one of Jack’s hands. Brought it into his lap. Jack turned a little. His face was the kind of careful neutral that Eric associated with PR and it made Eric’s stomach clench. 

“So,” Jack said. “Let’s talk.” 

Eric’s mouth was suddenly dry. He bit his lip and forced himself to take a deep breath. This was okay. It was going to be okay. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack opened with, and Eric’s heart all but jumped out of his chest. No good conversation ever started with ‘I’m sorry’. 

“Honey…” 

“I shouldn’t have tried to tell Michael what to do.” 

That was the last thing he’d expected. I’m sorry but we’re over. I’m sorry but I’m not into this after all. I’m sorry but… anything but this. 

“Jack…” 

“I get that I’m not his dad and I get why you’re mad at me. I got carried away. I just… this week’s been so nice, hasn’t it?” 

“It has,” Eric agreed, squeezing Jack’s hand. “It really has.” 

“And it’s been so easy. Being with you like this. Sometimes it feels like nothing ever really changed between us. I mean… I know it has. I know we can’t go back to how things were. But I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too,” Eric said, letting himself lean in a little. His heart was hammering. “I’m going to need you to be really clear though, Jack, what do you want here? Because it sounds to me an awful lot like you want us to be together again?” 

A moment of silence then, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I want.” 

Eric drew in a shocked breath, then leant forward to press his face into Jack’s shoulder, hiding his blush. 

“I know it’s not reasonable but, Eric, you’ve got to know you’re it for me? There hasn’t been a day I haven’t regretted fighting harder for you.” 

“Don’t be stupid,” Eric said. His free hand coming up to grip the back of Jack’s shirt.

“I’m serious. Okay, maybe not those first few months. I was so angry, Eric. I mean, I understood why you didn’t want to be my secret forever but I’d been so sure things were good and then suddenly I wasn’t enough anymore?” 

“Oh sweetie,” Eric said, pulling back so he could look Jack in the eye. “That’s not it at all. I was just so scared.” 

“Scared?” 

“Yeah. I just kept thinking that you’d never come out. There’s always a reason to stay hidden, Jack. And I know you said you were just waiting for the right time and I believed you but I wasn’t sure that the right time was going to come. My mom kept phoning and asking about marriage and grandchildren and I wanted all that. I wanted a husband and a family and I wanted it with you but I just kept envisioning us at like, forty, with you promising me one more season then you’d quit and come out and me just alone and… Jack?” 

“Eric,” Jack said, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in. “Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know.” 

“I didn’t want to push you. I was being supportive.” He eyes were wet, like the tears were just waiting to fall. 

“I’d have come out for you. If I’d known. I should have known, Merde I should have seen. I thought everything was okay. I knew you wanted those things and I wanted them too and I thought you knew. I had a ring, Eric.” 

Eric pulled back, shocked. “You didn’t?” 

“I did. I threw it away when I realised you weren’t going to change your mind and come after me.” 

“But if you’d just asked me…?” 

“I didn’t want to pressure you.” 

And Eric couldn’t help but laugh. Both of them, so young and stupid and afraid to ask for what they really wanted in case the other didn’t and look where it had got them. Years and miles apart. 

“I almost convinced myself to tell you,” Jack said. “I came back to Providence, once. I got your address from Lardo. Drove down. But, when I got there, I chickened out. I sat in my car and watched you leave your apartment with Steve and you looked so happy. He looked so happy. I couldn’t go over and interrupt that. I had to respect your choice. Tell me I did the right thing, Eric?” 

“I don’t know,” Eric said, softly. “I think, if you had come to me then… I don’t know. I loved Steve, but I don’t know that I ever loved him like I did you. But he gave me what I wanted. Stability. A family.” 

“Then he left you.” 

“Then he fucked around behind my back, and tried to blame it on me when we filed for divorce. He said I was emotionally distant. Frigid.” 

“I don’t remember you being frigid.” A warm hand landed on Eric’s thigh and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“And, anyway, if you’d interrupted me that day, I’d never had gotten Michael. And he’s the best thing in my life.” 

“He is pretty awesome,” Jack agreed, softly. 

“Even when he gets overwhelmed and yells?” 

“I remember being worse when I was a kid.” 

They both sat there, smiling at each other softly. Eric dared to lean forward, to brush his lips gently against Jack’s and Jack responded by deepening it. Pulling Eric forward into his arms and kissing him as though he could make up for all those lost years in a moment, here on Lardo’s couch in the middle of nowhere. 

Eric forced himself to pull back a little. “Just so you know, I’m still very into you.” 

“Me too,” Jack said, eyes sparkling, and then he was there again, pressing Eric back into the cushions. Eric brought his arms up to wrap around Jack, bringing them as close as he could. He was never going to get bored of this. Even if they did it every day for sixty years. He hoped to god they got to do it every day for sixty years. 

The thought made him pull back. 

“Okay,” he said, breathless, against Jack’s lips. “So, we were idiots in our twenties and we’re still attracted to each other? What now?” 

Jack pulled back a little. Studied Eric’s face, then leant in to press one more gentle kiss before speaking. “I’ve been offered a job in Providence. I wasn’t going to take it. It seemed like re-opening old wounds. But it’s working with kids, which I love and now… maybe we can try again?” 

“Yes,” Eric said, maybe a little too quickly. “I’d like that.” 

Jack smiled, a soft smile, and Eric kissed it from his lips just because he could. 

Jack was going to move to Providence. They were going to try again. Going to be together. 

If only his life wasn’t such a mess. He’d work it out, he knew he would, but…

Some of that must have shown in how he was kissing because Jack drew back. He looked at Eric and then frowned. 

Maybe he was remembering too. Remembering what a mess Eric had made of things. How he’d tried his best for years and his best hadn’t been good enough. 

If only…

“Hey,” Jack said, pressing their foreheads together. “Talk to me. If we’re going to make this work, you have to talk to me.” 

“Yes,” Eric agreed. Easier to say it than to do it. “I just can’t stop thinking that any minute you’re going to remember what a mess my life is and take it all back. You do remember, right? I’m unemployed. My son just got kicked out of his hockey team. I don’t know how I’m going to pay my rent this month.” 

Jack pulled back, sat up. He pulled Eric with him and tucked Eric in against his side. Eric could hardly argue with that so let himself press close. Gave himself the reassurance of Jack. Of Jack’s arm heavy and possessive around his shoulders. Of Jack’s chest under his cheek. 

“Okay,” Jack said, slowly. “So, this is probably crazy but I think we should get a place together.” 

“What?” 

“Or I’ll pay your rent and things but, honestly, I want to be with you and you want to be with me and I know this is rushing but I don’t want to move to Providence to only see you two times a week when we can carve out space in our schedules, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Eric said. “It’s just so fast.” It didn’t feel fast, though. That was the thing, and has Jack hummed non-committaly Eric knew he felt that too. That really, it was long overdue. 

“So, you’d have a room of your own. Michael too, of course. And I won’t crowd you or anything. I’ll try not to make it weird. But the life you’re living now, you deserve better. You deserve the space and time to find a job you care about, Eric. One that appreciates you. You deserve time to yourself. You deserve support.” 

And wasn’t that just the loveliest picture? Having Jack there to help him. Having space and time to find himself again. To do what Michael asked and find other things to centre his life around. 

It was too much too soon but his heart ached for it. He’d be mad to turn it down. 

“Okay,” Eric said. “Yes. Please. I’d love that.” 

And Jack was kissing him again, hot and hungry, and Eric was crying but neither of them seemed to mind, kissing and crying and getting as close as they possibly could, there on the sofa. 

It felt right. It felt like coming home. 

He was a fool to have let this go, but he was a lucky fool because he got it back. 

The door to the cabin banged open and Eric made to pull back but he was almost squashed under Jack so he could only yelp as Michael came bounding into the room. Michael paused and looked at them, then grinned from ear to ear. 

“So, is this the new normal now?” 

“Yes,” Jack said, and Eric could only mumble ‘oh Lord’ and bury his head in his hands. 

“Cool,” Michael said. “So, are we, like, going to come and live with you?” 

“In a way,” Jack said. He made no move to let Eric sit up. “I’m moving back to Providence. We’re going to look for a place together.” 

Michael nodded but the smile had droped a little. He shifted awkwardly, glanced back at the door. 

“Michael, honey. Is there something wrong?” What if he hated the idea of living with Jack? Eric wasn’t sure his heart would stand it. 

“No I… actually yeah. I mean, we promised to be more honest, yeah?” 

“We did,” Eric prompted, finding Jack’s hand and clinging to it. 

“I was kind of hoping we’d move away because I want to change schools.” 

The words hung in the air a second, not what Eric had expected. He frowned. “You don’t like your school?” 

“Um, no? I mean, I know it’s a good school and shit but everyone there thinks the most important thing is, like, what watch you’re wearing and how much it cost. Like, I don’t think any of them have ever taken off their shoes and run about in the grass like the kids here? I’m sick of feeling poor and I’m sick of people pitying me and I know Dad doesn’t want to pay for me to go there, I’ve heard you on the phone. So just… just let me go somewhere else?” 

“Oh, sweetie,” Eric said, and this time Jack did roll off him enough to let him up. To let him go and pull Michael into his arms. “We’ll find you a new school. I didn’t know.” 

“I didn’t tell you,” Michael grumbled. “I know you want the best for me but…” 

“But that school isn’t the best for you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay,” Eric said, reaching up to stroke his son’s hair. “We’ll take care of it. If that’s okay?” 

“Yeah,” Michael said, leaning in and squeezing Eric. “That’s okay. Oh, and can you just promised me one more thing?” 

“Anything, sweetie.” 

“Will the two of you please get a hotel room tonight? I really don’t want to share a bedroom with the two of you again.” 

Behind them, Jack laughed. 

***

“Are you sure we’ve got everything?” 

“Yes, Eric,” Jack said. There was a hint of long suffering in his tone but it was softened by the way Jack crowded in behind Eric, put his big hands on Eric’s hips and dropped a kiss to his hair. 

It was strange how, in the same moment, it felt new and old. Like they’d been doing this for a million years and like it was their first time, right in the same minute. It made Eric feel bold. Bold enough to turn in Jack’s arms and lean up for a kiss. Jack met him half way, almost lifting Eric off his feet and Eric wasn’t complaining about that, not at all. He just giggled and held on. 

“Hey look, Lards, it’s like we’ve gone back in time.” 

Eric held a finger up at Shitty without breaking the kiss which earned them a round of laughter. It was apparently enough to have Jack pulling back, blushing sheepishly and grinning ear to ear. 

It was a damn good look on him. One Eric was hoping to see many time over the next, well, the next forever. 

He wanted to stay forever. 

“Okay, kids,” Shitty said, peering past them into the car. “I think you’ve got everything. Other than your son. You might need a crowbar to separate him from his new friends.” 

“And your things,” Jack said, moving so he was stood next to Eric, an arm still around Eric’s shoulders. “Or did you forget?” 

“You didn’t talk to them?” Lardo asked, eyebrow raised. 

“We’ve been busy,” Shitty said, shrugging. “Thing is, my men, I’m staying here.” 

“Oh are you now?” Eric asked. 

“Yep. I mean, I’m not going back. I was never going back. That was the point of doing this. I handed in my notice before I went and then just, just fuck my old job, you know? And I thought that going back to how I was in college was going to be the answer. Like there was some fucking reset button I could press and go back there and start again but do it right this time.” 

“Yeah, if you find one of them let me know,” Eric said, leaning a little into Jack’s side. 

“I know, right? But I’ve been thinking a lot this week. I don’t think I ever really stopped before and asked myself what I wanted. I mean, I just kind of went along with things. It got easier and easier to just do what other people expected of me and not what I wanted.” 

“And that’s not a good way to live,” Lardo said, softly. 

“No,” Eric agreed. “It’s not.” 

“So… you two?” Jack asked. 

Shitty and Lardo both laughed but they were blushing. Stood close but not quite touching. 

“We can’t all be fairy tales like you two,” Shitty said, eventually.

“I’m just letting him hang out. We’re not…” 

“But, maybe?” Eric asked. 

“Yeah,” Shitty said, wistfully. “Maybe?” 

Eric could have cried for them. For him. There was no reset button, but that didn’t mean there weren’t second chances. He knew he had a challenge ahead. That they were in a glowing honeymoon period now and things would change. He’d changed. Jack had changed. But he believed in them. For the first time in a long time, he really believed good things were coming. 

“Hey!” They all looked over to where Michael was running out from the path into the car park, phone clutched in his hand. 

“Have you got everything, honey?” Eric asked, drawing away from Jack to go to him. 

“Yeah. We’re coming back to visit some time, right?” 

“You’re always welcome, brahs,” Shitty said, grinning. Lardo rolled her eyes at him but nodded. 

“Then I guess we’re coming back,” Jack said. “But, right now, we should probably hit the road. I guess… I guess we’ll call you soon?” 

“Absolutely,” Lardo said. She stepped in to hug Jack, then Eric. Eric squeezed her tight. He’d missed her. Did miss her. Maybe they would come back. Soon. Maybe they’d take a week. Get a motel room. Stay up too late and take long walks and pretend the real world didn’t exist. 

And then Shitty was there, pulling them all into a crushing hug. Eric laughed, squirmed against the arms digging into him, but clung to a handful of Shitty’s shirt. 

He was going to miss them. 

“Okay,” Jack said, the first to break the hug. “We really need to go. Thanks, both of you.” 

“Any time, brah.” 

“What he said.” 

And Jack walked around to climb into the driver’s seat. Michael ran to jump in the back, already texting, and Eric was left alone. 

He took a deep breath. It was crisp and clear here. Easy to be certain. About them. About what he was doing. It was going to be harder in the city. Harder with all the demands and noise of modern life. 

He was sure about this, though. Sure about them. Sure it was going to be worth trying. 

He climbed into the passenger side of the car. 

Jack smiled at him. Reached over to squeeze his knee, then further to kiss him. A soft thing, familiar already. And it felt like the future. Felt like the kind of kiss they could have a million times and not get tired of. 

He was ready for that. He was ready to move forward. 

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus we reach the end. See, told you I'd fix them. 
> 
> As it happens, I've written a series of follow up fic. Six of them. My plan is that next week, from Monday through Saturday, I'll post one a day. I'm still messing around with them so I can't jump and start posting them right away but next week. They're mostly just extra cute fluff but sometimes it's nice to have extra cute fluff. 
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who's read and commented. I've enjoyed sharing this with y'all.


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